


Bleeding from a Wounded Past

by Madifishy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asbestos, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Bad Puns, Blood, Character Development, Cute, Danger, Deception, Developing Friendships, Drinking, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Heroine's Journey, Humor, Jealousy, Lies, Love, Love Triangles, Mystery, Original Character(s), Pain, Sarcasm, Satire, Secrets, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Teasing, The Railroad, Trust, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madifishy/pseuds/Madifishy
Summary: Aly (Female Vault Dweller) is making friends in this god-awful, new world. She’s trying to make the world a better place. But when she’s running away from a past that isn’t even her own, how long will she be able to go on?





	1. The Following

**Author's Note:**

> I should be finishing one of my older unfinished works, but here I am instead. 
> 
> This one is built off of an idea I’ve had for quite some time now, but haven’t had time to get around to. It’s gonna be good, I promise.

Three pairs of footsteps tread over the ash coloured soil, kicking up dust, swirling it up into the hot air.

One pair of boots land particularly heavily, though not in a determined way. The owner of the footsteps has a swaggering walk, and the way he carries himself gives off this carefree aura about him. His rugged skin nearly matches the colour of the ground they tread upon, though his body is littered with many more scars, ridges, and imperfections than the smooth soil beneath his boots.

The second pair of boots walk much quieter, though far from silent. He walks cautiously, carefully stepping around anthills and divots in the ground. The string of bullets strapped to his thigh rattle quietly as they bump together with each of his steps. He has his gun out and his finger is ready to pull the trigger at a moments notice, despite the fact that the weapon is currently lowered.

The final pair of boots tread in no particular way. The gait is steady, the person is neither light nor heavy on their feet. Their eyes are transfixed to the hefty hunk of equipment strapped to their forearm, their fingers trained on the knob on the side of the device, their eyes stuck to the glowing, green screen.

Aly is on a mission. As her eyes dart about the map on her pip boy, the gears in her mind whir as she considers which path will get them to their destination fastest. They’re currently headed to Goodneighbour to stock up on food, weapons, and ammo. After that they’ll be heading to Trinity Tower to take out some super mutants that Preston has been urging Aly to deal with for the past three weeks.

Hancock’s eyes, his coal black eyes, are trained elsewhere. He’s particularly focused on the reassuring sway of Aly’s hips as she walks, as well as the way that that blue vault suit clings to her in all the right ways. With each movement of her hips, his gaze shifts slightly to the left or to the right, practically transfixed on the beautiful sight.

MacCready loudly clears his throat, and Hancock’s train of focus is lost momentarily as he looks up. “What?”

“Not being subtle there, Mayor”, MacCready notes, rolling his eyes.

Hancock grins, and holds his hands up in a shrug. “Hey, the sights are good. Vaultie knows it, I know it, and, as much as you’d like to protest, you know it too.”

MacCready opens his mouth and closes it again, taken aback. “I don’t-“

Hancock waves away his words. “Yeah, yeah, okay. You think you’re sneaky when you steal glances here and there, but I see where those eyes go.”

MacCready’s face burns red and his eyes meet the ground. He lowers his head in embarrassment, pretending to be focusing on his footsteps.

Satisfied, Hancock is about to return his attention back to Aly, and he stops inches short of walking right into her. She’d stopped walking, and was looking off to the right. They’d just entered the city, and were currently walking through the outer fringes where Raiders typically took up residence.

“What’s up, Boss?”, MacCready asks quietly, crouching down as his eyes scan the area where hers are currently looking.

Aly too crouches down, and Hancock sighs before doing the same. “Great, cool, now that we’re all down here, does anybody wanna tell me what’s going on?”, Hancock asks, taking out his handgun and checking to make sure he has enough ammo for whatever might be about to go down.

After a span of silence lasting a couple minutes, Aly hesitantly gets back to her feet. “I thought I heard something, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything there.”

The two men get to their feet as well, Hancock dusting himself off. “Then lets get this freak show on the road. I’d rather spend the night comfortably in my State House than out here in the Commonwealth.”

They continue on, Aly still looking off to the side, monitoring the buildings and alleyways for any movement.

“When we get back, I feel that a couple of drinks are in order. Vaultie, kid, you guys in?”

“I won’t say no to that offer”, MacCready responds, and Aly nods in agreement, though she doesn’t show the same enthusiasm.

“Guys, I think we’re being followed.”

Hancock frowns. “Followed? Why would anyone in their right minds want to follow us? What would anyone want with a ghoul, a merc, and a vault dweller?”

“I’m with Hancock on that one”, MacCready agrees ,”nobody has any reason to follow us.”

Aly shakes her head and picks up her speed. “I guess you’re right. Let’s just hurry up and get to Goodneighbor so I can relax and clear my head.”

After a little over an hour of walking, they reach the entrance of the familiar town. When Aly had first reached the town she’d thought it was, well, shady. She felt very much like an outsider. Many of the people living in Goodneighbor relied heavily on chems, and most of them had a dangerous look to them. But with each visit to the town, Aly felt more and more comfortable, and less and less out of place. The Commonwealth was her home, and she wasn’t an outsider.

Upon passing through the front gate, the familiar smell of cigarettes and beer swirled up into her nose, and she felt her muscles relax. She was safe here. All three of them were safe here.

“Vaultie, how about you head on up to my office and kick your boots off. The kid and I can handle grabbing some supplies from Daisy and KL-E-O for tomorrow’s trip”, Hancock offers.

Aly is about to protest, but Hancock has already walked off towards the merchants, MacCready in tow. She watches Hancock waltz into Daisy’s store, leaning on the counter, no doubt trying to sweet talk her into some deals on supplies. Aly turns her back to them and heads towards the State House, skipping up the steps and quickly entering the old building.

The inside of the building has a musty scent, and dust is visible in the beams of light that shine through the slats in the wood boarding up the windows. A guard nods at her, and she nods back before beginning up the spiral staircase, her fingers gently running over the old wooden railing, which is covered in imperfections from age and damage. When she reaches the top and enters Hancock’s office, she opens her mouth to great Fahrenheit, but the woman is nowhere to be seen. Aly fully enters the room, and glances around, confused as to Fahr’s lack of presence. She’s always here, and it strikes Aly as odd that she isn’t here.

Aly convinces herself that the bodyguard is probably out getting a drink, and she forces herself to relax. The feeling of prying her boots off of her feet is heavenly, and she lands on the couch, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. She leans back into the faded, crimson couch cushions and her worries begin to fade away as her body loosens up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hancock and MacCready enter the office, dropping boxes of ammunition and cases of food onto the worn wooden floor. Aly wakes with a start, yanking her gun from her holster and pointing it directly at the source of the noise over the back of the couch, her heart racing.

MacCready’s gaze shoots up to meet Aly’s, and Hancock’s eyes widen a little, then his expression softens. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just us.”

Aly looks confused, but she lowers her gun and rubs her eyes. “Sorry, you startled me.” She lazily presses the gun back into the holster strapped to her thigh, as sleep struggles to overtake her again.

Hancock crosses the room, his boot steps echoing loudly across the wooden floors, before plopping heavily onto the couch. His arms relax over the back cushions, and he kicks a boot up to rest a foot on the arm rest, his other boot flat on the floor. He sighs and leans his head back, his tricorn hat shifting on his head.

MacCready stands beside the couches awkwardly. Hancock has clearly taken a whole couch for himself, but there is only a small space left on the couch that Aly has occupied, and sitting there would require him to move her out of his way, which he didn’t want to do. Or. . .he could allow her to rest on him.

But his brain quickly files away that thought. Aly is his boss. They might be friendly towards one another, but that doesn’t give him the right to, well, you know.

Hancock’s eyes are closed as he speaks. “Well, better take a seat, kid. You’re not going to be well rested in the morning if you spend the whole damn night just standing there.” He adjusts his head so that his hat falls down just over his eyes, and he stretches his legs. “Just take a seat by Vaultie, she won’t mind.”

MacCready looks at Hancock for a long time before his eyes move over to Aly. He can’t tell if she’s asleep or not. Her eyes are closed, but her breathing doesn’t look steady enough for her to be asleep. He looks around the room, wondering whether it would be better for him to simply sleep on the floor.

He steps carefully around the table, now only a foot away from where Aly lay on the couch. He’s going to have to lift her up in order to sit down. There’s no way around it. If he tries to sit on the couch now, he’ll sit on her foot. He reaches down and gently, gently wraps his hand around Aly’s calf. She sniffles, but doesn’t react otherwise. He slowly and tediously moves her leg so that it is in a bent position, freeing up the couch cushion. MacCready does the same with her other leg, slowly and carefully. He breathes out a sigh of relief. There is now an open spot on the couch and Aly is still asleep, or, it looks like she’s still asleep.

MacCready slowly sits down, so as not to make any noise. Once finally seated, he leans back, and the couch squeaks quietly. MacCready’s breathe catches in his throat as Aly sits up and looks at him, eyes glazed over with sleep. He opens his mouth to say something, but can’t find the words to say. Aly closes her eyes and leans the other way, so her head lands right on MacCready’s lap. Her feet end up at the opposite end of the couch, and she groans sleepily.

MacCready’s heart was in his throat, and he was nearly afraid to move. After moving so slowly and cautiously with the attempt of keeping the pre-war woman off of him, her head now lay in his lap, his arm hovering over her body, afraid to touch her. He looks over to Hancock for help, but the gentle part of the ghoul’s lips and the steady rise and fall of his chest tells MacCready that he’s already fast asleep.

He looks down at the head on his lap again, unsure of what to do. As if answering his perplexity, Aly’s slender fingers reach up and close around MacCready’s wrist, bringing his arm down to rest over her body. MacCready’s eyes practically pop out of his head at the movement, and his gaze darts between his arm on Aly’s back, and the sly grin on Aly’s lips.

Her sleepy, gravely voice breaks the tension. “Hey, if we’re going to be traveling together, you don’t need to be afraid of touching me. I don’t bite.” Her eyes look up at him, heavy lidded with sleep, and he has to gulp down all the thoughts racing through his mind. He instead manages a “yeah, okay”.

After what seems like forever (but was probably only ten minutes), he feels Aly’s breathing level out, signaling that she’s finally asleep. He tries to get comfortable, but can’t quite seem to. The feeling of having someone so close to him is such an old feeling that it’s almost foreign, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

This feels like it’s going to be a long night.


	2. Secrets Bound in Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready comforts Aly after she has a nightmare. Aly worries that she’s revealed too much of her past to her companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a fourteen hour day at work, I came home and wrote this. Enjoy!

Aly wakes with a start, sitting upright, gasping for air. Unfortunately, ‘upright’, in this case, means directly into MacCready’s chin, resulting in a painful awakening for the merc. He grunts, his eyes snap open, and he instinctively reaches for his gun, pausing when he sees Aly and remembers where he is.

His initial response is to get angry, but his emotions soften when he sees the state she’s in. Beads of sweat are visible on her face and neck, her chest is heaving with each breath, and she looks like she might be shivering, though it’s difficult to tell in the dimly lit room. The candles from earlier have burned down a fair bit, leaving the room darker then it had been when they’d fallen asleep.

Aly looks dazed and unaware, something worrying compared to her usual composure. The anxiety is radiating off of her in waves. Her eyes are wide and when she looks up to meet MacCready’s gaze, he can only see one thing reflected in her amber eyes.

Fear.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, he asks awkwardly, unsure of how to approach the situation. He’s never seen her vulnerable like this. Aly is always the strong, brave pre-war woman that swoops in to save the day. Hell, she was still coming to terms with her husband’s murder and son’s abduction when she single handedly became General of the Minutemen.

Aly doesn’t respond, instead opting for a quick nod. She’s no longer laying on MacCready, but is now seated on the couch next to him. The air feels cold on his body where Aly’s body had previously been, and his skin prickles at the loss of warmth and contact.

“Bad dream?”, MacCready asks, standing up and stretching in a failed attempt to work out the crick in his neck and the painful new sensation in his chin.

“Yeah”, she responds, staring at a darkened corner of the room, “I guess so.”

MacCready looks back at her over his shoulder, and is hit with a pang of empathy. “Whenever I have a bad dream, I go and get some fresh air. Sometimes light up a cigarette. It usually helps.”

MacCready nods towards the door, then offers a hand to Aly, who accepts the silent request and is lifted to her wobbly feet. Her legs shake under her weight, and she nearly loses balance. MacCready puts an arm around her to steady her, and begins carefully guiding her towards the upper floor’s door, which leads out onto the balcony. They weave around furniture in the dark room, Aly’s body pressed up against his side to maintain her fragile balance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the door swings open, Aly lurches out onto the balcony, catching herself on the railing with two unsteady hands. She closes her eyes, and wills her thoughts to still themselves to allow her time to think.

The dream never stops. Every night, it’s the same recurring scene, over and over and over. And even when she’s awake, in the moments when her attention is set on no particular task, the dream replays itself in her thoughts like a broken record, doomed to spin forever.

It’s gruesome. Its morbid. It’s not pleasant in the least. And the worst part of all is that she can’t get away. And she wants nothing more than for it to leave her alone.

She hears a clicking noise and her thoughts are dragged back to the present. MacCready has a cigarette dangling from his chapped lips, and is attempting to light it. He has one hand cupped around the cigarette, the other on the aged lighter whose patriotic flag pattern is wearing away. He finally lights it successfully, and drops the lighter into his coat pocket, taking a deep breath from the cigarette.

When he finally breathes out, he closes his eyes and tilts his head up, allowing the cool night air to glide over his skin and tousle his tangled hair as his lungs release the smoke into the night sky. The pale moonlight barely illuminates the both of them, but it’s just enough that Aly can see the photogenic sight of him.

He opens his eyes and his attention travels down his arm and to his cigarette, which he offers to Aly. She accepts it and breathes heavily from it, doing the same as he had done, waiting a bit before exhaling. MacCready’s eyes follow the cigarette from his hand, to hers, and up to her lips.

Her nerves are still on edge, but she can feel her body relaxing. MacCready’s presence is somehow comforting to her. She hasn’t known him for too long, but she hasn’t known him much longer than anyone else in this strange new world. She trusts him, but trust in the Commonwealth is something different than the trust she’d known before the vault.

Before the bombs fell, you could trust your neighbour to water your lawn while you were away, or you would trust a plumber to fix your sink.

Upon exiting the vault, trust had an entirely different meaning. Preston trusted that she would lead the minutemen. Hancock trusted that she’d be the new friend that the ghoul didn’t know he needed. And MacCready, Aly trusted him with her life, and he trusted her the same.

“Do you ever dwell on past mistakes?”

MacCready looks up at Aly, then looks out over the town. “I have a lot more mistakes to dwell on than most people, but I try to make the best of it.” He flicks his cigarette butt off of the balcony, and it hits the ground and glows brightly before going dark. “I try not to run from my past decisions. What about you?”

Aly is taken aback by him returning the question unto her, but her expression doesn’t show it. “I guess I try to make the best of it too”, she answers, turning around and leaning her back against the balcony railing. “But sometimes it’s hard to make the best of things. Even the good things. Because sometimes the best things were brought about in the worst ways.”

MacCready nods in agreement. “I know what you mean.”

Aly looks up at him, and finds him looking right back at her. His eyes absorb the moonlight, reflecting off an even more extravagant shade of blue than usual. Aly’s almond coloured eyes look back into his blues, and she’s suddenly questioning the words she’s just spoken. Why would she tell him that? He doesn’t need to know about her past. He doesn’t _really_ need to know about her at all.

“That was weird. Just forget I said anything”, she straightens up abruptly and heads back inside, forcefully shoving the door open and letting it close loudly behind her, almost definitely waking up Hancock in the process. MacCready listens to her receding bootsteps, his head tilted in response to her sudden outburst.

Was it something he’d said?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this felt jumbled or rushed. I wasn’t rushed writing it, but I was trying to get a lot of thoughts down before I forgot them. 
> 
> It would be great if you guys could leave comments telling me what you thought, what you liked or disliked, and what you’d like to see more of. 
> 
> Thanks!


	3. Abrupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly takes off, and Hancock explains something particularly important to MacCready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I’d rather have this one short and the next chapter an average length instead of clumping both chapters together.

Hancock awakes to a slam that reverberates through the Old State House, followed by loud boot steps that make the floor creak anxiously. He nudges his hat back and opens one eye to see what the ruckus is about. He looks around the dark room, and it takes him a moment to spot Aly, frantically digging through the supplies and throwing ammo and rations into her bag. She looks determined, but her movements are fretful.

He sits up and stretches both arms, groaning as his muscles tense with the stretch and relax afterward. He lifts himself up off of the couch and walks over to the supplies, lifting a foot to rest a boot on the coffee table. “What’s going on Sunshine?”

“I’m getting any early start”, she mutters, standing up and flinging her satchel over her shoulder. She doesn’t stop to look at him, just turns on her heel and heads towards the door, but a hand catches her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She looks down at the hand, skin mangled and discoloured, then she looks over her shoulder at the owner of the hand.

“Slow down, Sister. Want me or the kid to join you?”, he asks, sounding thoroughly confused. “You’d planned for all of us to head out together, remember?”

She yanks her shoulder from his grasp and jogs down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She reaches the door, her hand wrapping around the bronze handle. “I’ll be fine”, she murmurs, exiting the building and letting the door swing shut behind her.

The resulting door slam makes the ghoul wince.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the balcony, MacCready listens to a second set of boots walking around upstairs with the first pair, signaling to him that Hancock must be awake. He listens as footsteps go down the stairs, and he hears the front door of the State House slam open and closed.

He rushes inside at the sound, and sprints down the stairs, opening the door to the State House and peering out, catching just a glimpse of Aly’s back as she exits Goodneighbor. He stands there for a moment, taken aback.

Just two minutes earlier, they’d been having a nice conversation, and both of them seemed to be enjoying the other’s company. What had gotten her upset, and why had she left alone?

“She gone?”, Hancock asks, peeking around the doorframe to see if he can spot the blue vault suit among the people outside.

“Yeah, I guess so”, MacCready replies, walking away from the door and sitting on the bottom step of the spiral staircase.

“What’d you say to her?” Hancock asks nonchalantly, quietly closing the door.

MacCready feels anger bubble up at the question. “I didn’t say anything! Nothing bad, anyway. We were just talking and-“

“Just talking?”, Hancock interrupts, raising what would have been a brow, had he still been human.

MacCready feels his face get hot, and he knows a blush has overtaken his face. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Well, were you just talking, or did you do something to upset her, or maybe rub her the wrong way?”

“I don’t think so”, MacCready furrows a brow, deep in thought. “We were sharing a smoke and talking about stuff and all of a sudden she ran off.”

Hancock nods and trains his focus on the ground, considering what has just been said.

“Did you bring up her past?”

MacCready looks at Hancock upon hearing the question. “I mean, kind of. Why?”

Hancock crouches down and puts a hand on MacCready’s shoulder. “Kid, I don’t know much about Vaultie’s past, and I think she’d like to keep it that way with everyone she meets.”

MacCready makes a perplexed face. “Why?”

Hancock removes his hand from MacCready’s shoulder and stands up, then gives a shrug. “Whatever she’s been through, it must not be fun for her to take a trip down memory lane. She gets real upset if you ask her about her life before the vault. Last time her and I got drunk together, we were out in the ‘Wealth, and had set up camp for the night. We’d had a couple drinks, and I asked her what life was like for her before the bombs fell.

“Soon as I asked, it was obvious I’d plucked a bad chord. Told me about how she’d lost her husband and how her son was abducted. Then she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Said it made her sad to think about.”

MacCready stands up and begins to climb the stairs. “Well, we should probably go after her.”

Hancock snorts, and MacCready looks over the banister at him. The ghoul crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “Go after her? Kid, she could hand both of our asses to us. What makes you think she can’t take care of herself?”

MacCready gives Hancock a disapproving stare. “What if something happens to her?”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to her. I’m willing to bet money on that. Anyone gets in her way, and they’ll be put in their place real quick.”


	4. Taking Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly blows off some steam and takes out the mutants holed up in Trinity Tower. She finds herself injured, and she goes after the person who saves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I’d post two chapters today: enjoy!

A gunshot ricochets through the streets as a perfectly aimed bullet lands in a super mutant’s head, killing him instantly. His body hits the ground with a thud, and Aly quickly reloads her rifle, cocking it and aiming it again, waiting for another super mutant to come into view.

She has felt as though somebody has eyes on her, but has convinced herself that this isn’t possible. The mutants are too far away, and nobody else is around. And if somebody was near her, she would’ve heard them following her here.

She’s taken up a spot a little down the street from Trinity Tower, and she’s using the scope on her sniper rifle to pick the mutants off one by one from a safe distance. Sure, she could barge in guns blazing, but it’s more fun this way. She fires the gun again, and smiles as the mutant’s head explodes from the sheer force of the bullet’s impact.

She watches in amusement as the mutants run around confused, looking not dissimilar to ants whose anthill has been doused in water, many of them sporting binoculars in an attempt to scope out her hiding spot. From there, she knows that they won’t be able to spot her. She’s three floors up in an old office complex several buildings away. They’re not smart enough to look that far.

She’s almost got a perfect shot at another mutant’s head when an irritating sound rallies her attention. She’s been ignoring it for a bit, assuming it’s some busted car alarm or a radio in another office, but it sounds somewhat closer now. She perks up, looking over her shoulder, and her eyes go wide.

There’s a super mutant carrying a mini nuke that’s beeping a rapid countdown, and he’s begrudgingly climbing the rubble to her sniping spot. He looks up at her and gives a disgustingly toothy grin. Aly leaps up from her spot and frantically searches for an escape route. The only reasonable way out is back the way she came, which is now blocked by the mutant coming at her.

She’s walled in on three sides, but the wall to her left looks weak, worn from age and eroded by radioactive winds. She throws her weight at the wall, which budges only slightly under her weight. She throws her shoulder into the wall again, painfully aware of how close the mutant and the bomb are getting. A third time and the wall creaks, raining dust down around her. She looks back in time to see the large green body in the doorway, a blinking bomb under one arm. He chortles and starts barreling towards her, and she throws herself to the wall one last time, the structure finally giving in.

Her body soars through the now open wall and lands hard on the dusty ground in the next room. The wind is knocked from her lungs, and she gasps for air. She gets a breath of debris and dust and feels choked by the lack of air.

She’s dazed from the fall, but forces her body off of the ground and keeps running. One side of the building has completely fallen away, leaving a pile of rubble in its wake. She bolts for the open air and slides down the pile of rubble, the super mutant close behind.

She reaches the bottom of the rubble and sets off down the street, booking it towards Trinity Tower. Bullets rain down around her as the super mutants above try to take her out, but she manages to avoid any direct hits. She feels her heart pounding in her chest as she puts all of her energy into outrunning the mutant behind her. The bomb is beating much more frantically now, it’s red blinker a warning of what is to come.

She charges into the building and races up the first flight of stairs, her foot catching on the last step. She bites her tongue as her ankle snaps, and she stifles a pained scream. She hits the floor hard, her face flat on the cold surface, her vision wobbly. She risks a look back and sees the super mutant reach the top step, a huge smarmy grin stretched wide across his face.

Then everything is white.

There’s a piercing sound, and she feels an ache rattle through her whole body. She screams, but no sound can be heard over the ear numbing noise. Her legs burn fiercely and her back stings. It feels as though her body is on fire. Pain radiates from every single inch of her.

And just like that, it’s over. The noise stops, and the white is gone. Her body still flat to the ground she uses one arm to drag herself over to an overturned desk. Agony washes over her with every movement, and she groans tormentedly. She rolls over onto her back, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream. She pulls herself to a sitting position, her vision blurred and fading fast. She doesn’t hear any more super mutants. She grits her teeth and looks up.

There is a gaping hole in the third floor from the explosion, and part of the second floor is missing as well. Her lips upturn a small bit. Her plan to take out the mutants and get rid of the bomber worked.

But as her vision gets darker and darker, she’s reminded that with every success, there are some losses. She wills herself to remain conscious, but has no choice but to give in to the onset of darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
She feels a jab in the stomach and her eyes pop open. She quickly looks down to determine the source of the pain. A stimpack sticks out of her midsection, but the healing fluid has already been injected. Her bag is still on her back unopened, and she wasn’t conscious to do this herself which means. . .

She stands up abruptly. _Somebody_ _saved_ _her_ _life_. She frantically looks around, and catches a glimpse of a tall figure heading down the stairs. She rips the empty stim out of her abdomen and tosses it to the side, running after the figure. “Hey, wait!”

She bolts down the stairs and out of the building, all pain gone from her body, and sees the figure turn a corner a few streets ahead. Whoever this is, they’re fast.

She chases after them, arms pumping at her sides as her body sprints toward where the figure last was. She pants heavily as she reaches the corner, and sees the person up ahead in the distance. Energy leaving her fast, she still forces herself to follow the person, desperate to know who was responsible for saving her life.

After following them for several more blocks, they disappear around another corner. When Aly reaches the corner and rounds it, she can’t spot the person anywhere. She’s in a plaza of sorts, in the middle of which sits a tarnished statue of a man on a horse. She walks past the statue, her fingers running along the aged bronze, leaving four long trails in the dust. She eyes the church in front of her.

It’s a brick church, unlike the typical wooden churches she’s gotten use to seeing in the Commonwealth. There are three large windows in the front, and some strange white graffiti markings near the door. A pre-war patriotic banner hangs from the center window.

She approaches the building and sees that the door is open. She looks behind her to check her surroundings one more time. If this door is open, then this has to be where the person ran. There’s nowhere else they could’ve gone.

She places a hand to door of chipping white paint, and carefully, slowly pushes it open, and steps into the old brick building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the safety of the roof tops, they watch as the vault dweller sprints into the plaza and skids to a stop. They duck down as she looks up and eyes her surroundings, taking in the essence of the historical area. Her footsteps are quiet as she walks towards the church, and they finds it oddly appealing how she runs her hand over the bronze horse. Most people just ignore it, but this woman, she’s different than most. More attentive to detail and more logical.

They pull a walkie talkie from their pocket as the vault dweller opens the door to the ancient building and disappears inside. Their lips lean close to the walkie and they only whispers two chilling words.

_“Got her.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know who the mystery stranger is clap your hands
> 
> If you know who the mystery stranger is clap your hands
> 
> If I wasn’t subtle and you know it, and you really wanna show it, if you know who the mystery stranger is clap your hands
> 
> (Seriously though, my lack of subtlety is the bane of my existence)


	5. The Crypts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly chases the mysterious figure into a seeemingly abandoned building, but quickly learns that the building has quite a bit more than just ferals inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual. I hope nobody minds too much.

Aly enters the dank, darkened room and the hairs on her arms immediately prickle up, her senses heightened. _She isn’t alone._ Her ears pick up the occasional shuffle and floorboards creak in various areas around the large room. She carefully pulls the gun from her leg holster, holding it up and ready, as she clicks into VATS to scope out how many threats there are, as well as where they are.

VATS picks up on feral after feral. Aly sighs noiselessly and clicks out of VATS, lowering her gun, deciding whether or not she has enough ammo to run in guns blazing. She pulls her pack off of her back and silently places it on the floor, reaching through it to see just how much ammo she has.

She can hear a radstorm brewing outside, and the room momentarily lights up as lightning collides with the bronze horse outside of the building. For a split second, Aly’s eyes go wide as she sees the large group of ferals shuffling around the room before it goes dark again. In the short-lived light, many ghouls turn to look at her, and once the room is blanketed in darkness again, she can hear them charging towards her, gurgling and shuffling awkwardly around overturned pews. She curses the windows for being so dusted over, making this room so pitch-black, even in the daytime.

She cocks her gun and is able to take out many of the ferals running towards her using VATS, but there’s far too many of them. She snags her pack up off of the ground and makes a run for the nearest doorway. She charges into the room and whirls around to slam the door shut, only to discover that there is no door. It lay broken on the ground in several pieces, it’s rusty hinges no good to her now.

The ferals are approaching fast, which requires even faster thinking on her part. She pulls the bookshelf to her left away from the wall, and presses all her weight to it to push it in front of the doorway. There is a moment of silence and Aly is about to feel relieved when the bookshelf shakes as the ghouls collide harshly with it. She steps back and grimaces, bolting down through the hallway and stumbling down several flights of stairs until she’s immersed in complete darkness.

She stands in the new, colder area, and listens to the noises upstairs, her heart beat still pulsating wildly in her chest. She listens to the banging for several minutes before the sound gradually fades as the ghouls decide that this meal just isn’t worth it. One by one, she hears the number of scratches upstairs diminish, until the room returns to its completely noiseless state.

 _Okay, now to figure out where she is._ She clicks on the light of her pip boy and winces at the sudden glow of green light that fills the room before her. The light reveals that this isn’t a room at all, but is in fact a hallway of sorts. The walls are brick, with many of the bricks sitting at odd angles, askew to the bricks around them, or resting on the floor, having fallen out of the wall itself.

She walks through the cramped hallway warily, her gun out and the safety off. She tries to focus, but keeps getting destructed by plaques on the wall. She just brushes her fingers over the first few, not bothering to read them. At about the fifth one, she stops walking and decides to do a quick read and see what these plaques are about.

 _Samuel Bell_  
_Born 1765  
Died 1808_  
_He leaves behind a wife and two daughters._  
God rest his soul.

Aly lurches backward in shock and her back meets another plaque which she turns around to read, her mind racing.

 _Robert Flanagan_  
_Born 1757  
Died 1801_  
_He was a true leader and a valiant soldier._  
May he Rest In Peace.

Aly’s breathing hitches and the realization hits her like a bullet train. This isn’t a hallway. _This is a fucking tomb._

Startled, she picks up the pace, passing dozens upon dozens of plaques. Her eyes race around bewilderedly to each one, and she feels unsettled and slightly offput. After what seems like an eternity, the hallway tomb finally ends, and she finds herself in a small, cramped room with a large circular bronze plate on the wall that reads, ‘BOSTON. THE FREEDOM TRAIL.’

She places a still shaky hand to the center of the plate and presses it firmly. It gives a hollow click, but nothing happens. It’s a button. She takes a step back and looks it over, before wrapping her fingers around the outside of it and twisting. The outside ring moves, and her lips turn up at the corners. She removes her hands from the outer ring and once again lays a hand on the center. She presses the button once more, and this time there’s a shuffling noise accompanying the click. Her eyes follow the red arrow on the center of the plate up to the letter it points at, ‘R’.

She turns the outer ring and again presses the button and hears the shuffle and click again, but this time the arrow is pointing to ‘A’. She knows this is a puzzle of some sort, but she doesn’t understand. Why didn’t the button work the first time she pressed it? Why did it make a different sound for ‘R’ and ‘A’?

The contraption clicks similarly on ‘I’ and ‘L’ as well, but it makes a hollow click when she presses the button while the arrow is pointing at the letter B. Perplexed, she takes a step back and stares at the puzzle. So R-A-I-L made a good sound, but the door didn’t open. She bit her cheek, delving deep into her mind, trying to come up with a solution. She had to spell out something. Something that started with R-A-I-L. Maybe that was only part of the word she needed to spell.

An idea seeps into her brain and the gears of her mind whir with new determination. She makes a popping noise with her lips, then inputs R-A-I-L-S, but her spirits fall when the S results in a hollow click instead of a click and shuffle. She rests both of her hands behind her head and paces. What is she suppose to spell? She tries RAILWAY and RAILCAR, neither neither of which work. She kicks the ground in annoyance, and places her hands on her hips in determination as she picks over her brain with a fine tooth comb.

Her mind returns to the day after she had first gone to the Memory Den.

_She trudged back to The Old State House, her limbs having an unusual heaviness to them. She felt like she had been so close to something. Crawling around Kellogg’s memories, she knew there was something there. But when she leaped up out of the memory pod, only to hear Kellogg’s voice come out of her favourite synth, Nick Valentine, her heart sank through the floor. Hearing his voice reminded her that no matter what she did, no matter what or who she was looking for, her actions risked putting people in danger. Everything she had ever done had put people in danger._

_She shivered in the cool night air and quickened her pace, entering the familiar building and loudly climbing the stairs. She didn’t even glance at Hancock’s office as she continued up the stairs, and she heard his “Heya Sunshine”, greeting catch in his throat as she blatantly ignored his words. Luckily, the attic was empty of people, and she stepped off of the top step and entered the room. Suddenly, she released all her rage at once, her closed fist colliding with the wooden dresser with enough force to splinter the wood. She gasped in pain and held her hand to her chest, several small slivers of wood protruding from her knuckles. She screamed through gritted teeth in anger and flopped down onto one of the mattresses, biting her hand hard enough to draw blood. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of her. Not anymore._

_She pulled her knees to her chest and rest her forehead on them, her skin pressed to the worn blue fabric of the vault suit. She held back tears, which stung at the corner of her eyes. She stayed like that for a long time, just holding back tears and silently damning herself for constantly making bad decisions. After a fair amount of time had passed, she lifted her head from her knees and saw through the dirty window that the sun was just starting to rise. Perfect. Time to get the hell out of here._

_She braced one arm on the dresser to her left to pull herself up off of the mattress, and her fingers closed over a rectangular shape. Confused, she lifted her fingers and looked down at the small holotape that had been resting on the dresser. She’d been in such a state of rage when she’d arrived in the room that she had completely overlooked the small holotape._

_Curious, she popped open the tape player on her pipboy and jammed the tape in before slamming the player closed. She heard the tape briefly whir as it reminded, then a deep, female voice filled the room._

_“Wake up, Commonwealth. Synths are not your enemy. They are victims in this war, as well. True, they were created by The Institute, but they were created as slaves. Thinking, feeling, and dreaming beings utterly oppressed by their tyrannical masters. So join with us in fighting the real enemy: The Institute. Join the Railroad. When you're ready for that next step, don't worry, we'll find you.”_

Aly works with a strong feeling of commitment towards a new idea. She twists the plate with purpose now, realizing what she needs to do.

R-A-I-L-R-O-A-D

As she places her hand on the button after the final letter she closes her eyes and lets her hand press onto it, and her heart flutters when she hears a click and shuffle, followed by several more mechanical click. She follows the sound of the clicks as the run across the wall and, to her bewilderment, the wall to the side of the plate scoots back, then slides away, revealing a passageway. She jumps up and pumps at the air in excitement. She might not be the smartest person in all of the Commonwealth, but she sure isn’t stupid, either.

As she enters the new passage, the light on her pipboy fizzles out and she bangs the device on her hand a few times, to no avail. The screen lights up, but no longer gives off the brilliant glow that illuminates the area around her. Feeling her way through the darkness, she sees a light up ahead. It looks like. . .a lantern? Yes, it’s a lantern for sure. A very, very dim lantern. She picks up the pace, heading toward this lantern, when she is blinded by a sudden barrage of bright light, and she brings an arm up to shield her eyes as she grimaces.

“Stop right there.”

She recognizes this voice, it’s the same voice she heard from the holotape she’d found in the Old State House week’s ago. She lowers her arm and squints as her eyes adjust to the sudden light, and three figures come into view. The center figure is a middle-aged woman with bright red hair, prominent frown lines, and what appears to be way too much eyeliner. She has a gun aimed directly at Aly’s head. “You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m not your enemy, and I’m not here to hurt anyone.”, Aly responds, eyeing the figures to either side of the red-headed woman. One is a woman with dark skin and a rugged, wasteland hairstyle. This woman holds a large minimum, which contrasts in an almost unnatural way with her thin frame. The figure to the other side of the redhead was a male dressed in a blue padded jacket, and he wields a small yet powerful looking handgun.

“And who are you?”, Aly questions, swallowing the lump of concern in her throat.

The redhead squints at the question, but she answers in an almost cryptic way. “In a world of suspicion, treachery, and hunters, we are the synths only friends.

“We are the Railroad.”

Before Aly can open her mouth, the woman asks another question. “Who told you how to contact us?”

“Nobody told me anything about you. I stumbled upon this place by accident.”

Aly’s response earns a disapproving look of disbelief from the woman, and she adds on a weak “I promise.”

The redhead straightens up and lowers her gun.

“I see. I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad.”, as the woman, Desdemona, speaks, a tall figure silently enters the room via the hallway behind her, and he steps into the light, leaning casually against the wall. He sports a white tee, denim jeans, and reflective shades that hide his eyes. He watches curiously, though his face doesn’t let on at all to what he may be thinking.

“And you-“, she pauses mid thought and realizes the additional presence that has entered the room. “Deacon, where’ve you been?”

The figure crosses his arms over his chest, and answers in what Aly can only think of as a very carefree voice. Possibly one of the most carefree voices she’s heard not just since exiting the vault, but prior to entering it as well.

“You’re having a party. What gives with my invitation?”

Desdemona clenches her fists in annoyance at the sarcastic jab, but maintains her composure.

“I need intel. Who is this?”

He scoffs before speaking. “Wow! News flash, boss. This girl is kind of a big deal out there.”

Before Desdemona has time to respond, you cut in. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”, you direct at the nonchalant man.

“I didn’t need to meet you to hear about you. You have made waves. I’ve heard that you’ve done some pretty remarkable things out there.”

His sights remained trained on you, but he addresses the redhead. “Des, seriously, you haven’t heard of her? She’s the leader of the Minutemen. It seems like the whole Commonwealth is flying her flag.”

Alarms sound in Aly’s brain warning her that this guy, ‘Deacon’, as the leader woman had called him,knows far too much about her for her to have never met him before.

Desdemona shifts her weight to her other foot and rests a hand on her hip. “Are you vouching for her?”

“Yes. Trust me, she is someone we want on our side.”

Desdemona’s expression does a complete 180, and she puts her gun away. “That changes things. So, stranger, why did you want to meet with us anyways?”

She considers telling them that she followed a tall figure into the building, but she bites her tongue when she sees Deacon shaking his head, signaling for her to say something else, and not whatever is immediately on her mind.

“I have my reasons”, she answers vaguely.

“Fine. But before we begin working with you, I need to know that we’re on the same page. You know what a synth is, right?”

Is this a trick question? Her mind flashes back to Nick Valentine, best damn detective she has ever met, and her first real friend in this new world. “Yeah, I know what synths are.”

“Good. The Institute treats synths as property, as tools.”

Aly raises a brow. “Why does the Institute treat them that way?”

“Because they’re playing God. Tinkering with things that they don’t fully understand. From that lofty vantage, it is easy to deny their creations’ very humanity.”

“Isn’t that. . .slavery?”, Aly asks, feeling her gut wrench at the thought.

“Exactly. So we seek to free the synths from their bondage. Now I have a question, the only question that really matters. Would you risk your life for a fellow man, even if that man was a synth?”

Aly gets a quick flashback of the things she did prior to entering the vault, and she closes her eyes and forces away a shudder before her body shivers at the memory. “I’d risk my life for anyone who would risk their life for me.”

“Well said”, Desdemona responds. “I trust you, but right now we don’t have time to train new agents. However, if you are truly devoted to helping synths, see Deacon. He can point you in the right direction. As for you-“, she turns to face the sunglasses man “-you accompany this woman. If she has as much power as you say she does, she might need your assistance out there.”

He nods in wordless response, and watches as the three figures exit the room, leaving just you and him. He turns his attention to you and grins, and suddenly you make a connection.

The feeling of being watched while she was headed to Goodneighbor with John and Mac. The sensation that she wasn’t alone while she was sniping the super mutants. The mystery person that had stimpacked her before leading her here. The tall figure she’d seen running away after healing her. The person who had led her here.

This was the man responsible for saving her life.

A sly grin crosses his lips, the first bit of emotion he’s shown this far. “So, are we like, gal pals now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m bad at being subtle


	6. Charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon and Aly head to Goodneighbor, and they learn a little more about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this done yesterday, but I didn’t finish it until 1am today, oops

Aly stares at the man in front of her, mouth agape.

The man taps a finger to her chin. “Might want to close that. Wouldn’t want to catch flies.”

 _This?_ _This_ was the man responsible for saving her life? Some lanky, sarcastic asshole with sunglasses? She closes her mouth and gives him a once over from the bottom up. Old style shoes and denim jeans coated in a layer of Wasteland dust. The tee is worn out around the arms, and is yellowed slightly from age.

And those damn sunglasses. As much as Aly wants to say they look ridiculous, they somehow suit him. She meets the sunglasses, and feels his eyes looking back into hers. “Hope you didn’t mind Des’s little reception. When you tango with The Institute, you got to be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor.”

“Why did you save my life?”, Aly asks, ignoring his previous statement.

“Well, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to let you die now, would it?”

Aly squints at him and her expression changes. “And you’ve been stalking me because. . .?”

Deacon’s lips twitch up at the corners. “I wouldn’t call it ‘ _stalking_ ’ per se. It’s more of just spying and gathering intel where intel is needed.”

Aly feels a small swell of anger bubble up inside, and she holds it back almost effortlessly. “How long have you been spying on me?”

Deacon sarcastically counts on his fingers and makes a show of tilting his head and dramatically tapping a finger to his lip before finally answering. “No clue.”

“I’m serious”, Aly snaps, anger frothing at the edges of her tone.

Deacon holds his hands up in mock defense. “Alright, alright. I was the first person in the Commonwealth to lay eyes on you after you stepped out of that vault because, well, I was there when it happened. I’ve been tagging along ever since.”

Annoyance is present on the woman’s face. “What all have you seen and heard?”

“Gathered intel on most of your friends. Detective Nick Valentine, Reporter Piper Wright, Mayor John Hancock of Goodneighbour, Hired Mercenary Robert Joseph MacCready, Preston Garvey Lieutenant of the Minute-“

“Fine. I get it”, Aly interrupts, and Deacon’s attention returns to her. As much as this guy is getting on her nerves, she can’t deny that he’s quirky and funny, in some weird, twisted way. “If you know so much, tell me some things about myself that nobody else should know.”

He claps his hands together then rests them both behind his head. “What do you want to hear?”

Aly huffs. “If you know so much about me, _prove it._ ”

With each point he makes, he counts off on his fingers. “You like Blamco Mac n Cheese, even though you lie and say it tastes stale. You have the chem tolerance of a teenager. You have a tube of salvaged lipstick in your pack, despite telling the ghoul that makeup isn’t worth the time in the wasteland. Also, you _definitely_ have a thing for the merc kid.” He stops counting on his fingers and looks up with a grin. “Am I wrong?”

“I don’t have a thing for him, we’re just friends”, Aly retorts hotly.

He shrugs lamely. “If you say so, compadre.”

“Thanks for saving me earlier, but if you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to get back to”, she states, turning around and walking off down the hall and back into the darkened crypts. She doesn’t hear footsteps following her, and she breathes a sigh of relief, glad to be away from that guy. But after what he’d said, she couldn’t help but wonder if other people around her thought she had a thing for Mac as well. Sure, they were close, but she didn’t see him in a romantic way. And she sure as hell knew he didn’t see her in a romantic sense either. He worked for her, and that’s all there was to it.

The light on her pipboy sputters back to life without warning, startling her from her own mind. She shakes the remaining thoughts out of her head and retraces her steps up and out of the church, being careful to avoid the ghouls that were still upstairs.

Upon exiting the building, she squints at the sunlight and holds up an arm to shield her eyes. She clicks her pipboy off, and notes that the radstorm must’ve passed while she was meeting The Railroad. “So, where are we headed?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the unexpected voice, whirling around, gun up and ready in less than a second. Deacon stands just inches away from the end of her gun, hands up in mock surrender. “Why the hell are you following me?”, Aly demands.

“Des told me to. And, it’s not going to do any harm to run around the Commonwealth with the Minutemen General, gathering intel.”

“And what if I _don’t_ want you to follow me around?”

The man shrugs, then places both hands on his waist. “If you don’t want me around, just tell me and I’m gone. But I think I might be a little more helpful than you think I am.”

Aly rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I doubt that.” But when she sees her reflection in his sunglasses, she finds it impossible to tell him to scram. She was able to detect him following her before, which means he’s very good at sneaking about. From the way he carries himself, however, she questions his abilities with a gun.

“How well do you shoot?”

He makes finger guns and follows up with terrible imitation gun noises. Aly runs a hand over her dirt covered face. “Fine, you can stay. But the second you make a wrong move-“

“No worries, it’ll be like I’m not even here. But first things first, Des was in a hurry and didn’t tell you, but you need a code name for yourself under The Railroad.”

Aly keeps walking, but she knows Deacon is following along just a few feet behind. “A code name? What is this, kindergarten?”

“Something like that”, he responds. “We need to come up with a totally awesome name for you. It could be something edgy, like Charmer.”

“If I let you call me Charmer, will you shut your mouth for ten minutes?”

Deacon makes a ‘my lips are zipped motion’ and Aly scoffs and continues walking. She’d much rather be with MacCready or Hancock than this guy. Even Nick or Preston would be better than this, and they weren’t as close to her as her friends from Goodneighbor.

They walk in silence for a long while, Aly reveling in the lack of noise in the post war world. There were no car engines sputtering down the roads, no bugs chirping away their happy tunes, no leaves rustling with the occasional breezes that made Massachusetts such a lovely place prior to the war. Everything was so quiet now. The silence was a thing veil of water, and Aly was almost afraid to disrupt its surface. Deacon, on the other hand. . .

“So”, he claps his hands together, “where are we headed?”

“Goodneighbor. I’ve got some friends I need to check in with.”

“Dusty train conductor and the ghoul?” Deacon asks, earning him an annoyed look from Aly.

“He doesn’t look like a train conductor. And yes, those two are the people I’m checking in on.”

“Are you going to make things up to them for running off after talking to merc boy on the balcony?”

Aly clenches her fists and whirls on her heel to face the spy. “Why I do what I do is none of your business. What’s more than that, it’s beyond creepy that you know that that happened.”

“I know a lot more about you than you think I do, Charmer.”

Aly doesn’t respond, just slowly turns back around and continues walking, picking up her pace a little more than what it had been before. How much did this spy know, exactly? His words echo over and over in her head, making her anxious. She walks faster, trying to outrun the thought.

But, apart from that, something about the way he says ‘ _Charmer_ ’ is more comforting than she’d like to admit.


	7. Send Help, Or Don’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly returns to Goodneighbor with Deacon, and not all of her friends are as accepting of her new companion as she had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a little bit to write this one, so thank you for being patient.

Aly hops up the stairs in the Old State House with a little bounce in her step; excited to see her friends, but nervous at the same time. The way she’d left last time wasn’t the greatest, and she was more than prepared to face the consequences of that if necessary.

She reaches the top step and both boots land with a thud, turning the heads of the three people beyond the double doors in front of her. Hancock and MacCready’s eyes light up, and Fahrenheit rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

_Thanks, happy to see you too, Fahr._

“Hey Sister, was worried you weren’t coming back”, Hancock jokes, standing up from the couch.

“We almost sent out a search party after you, but decided you’d snipe ‘em off before they got there”, the merc follows up, raising from the couch as well.

Aly hugs both of them, wrapping an arm around each one. Both of them hug her back, something that didn’t happen very often in the post war world. Aly is one of the few people in the Commonwealth who was still affectionate towards her friends and the people she could trust. Hancock had poked fun at her for it, but he never complained about the hugs. Hancock extracted himself from the hug and took a step back, MacCready fully enveloping Aly in a hug of his own. “You can’t run off like that. Just because you can take care of yourself on your own, doesn’t always mean you should.”

Aly struggles playfully against his grip and makes a face. “Mac, you’re gonna strangle me.”

“Promise me you won’t run off alone again, and I’ll let go.” When Aly doesn’t respond, he squeezes his arms around her a little tighter, earning a surrender from her. “Okay okay, I won’t go alone again.”

He releases her from the hug and pats one of her shoulders. “It’s good to have you back boss-“

MacCready’s eyes avert to something over Aly’s shoulder and he lifts his gun suddenly, aiming it behind Aly. Hancock also reaches for his gun, and Fahr is already looking down her handgun which is aimed in the same place MacCready’s gun is aimed. Aly whirls around, ready to get her gun out, and is met with a wave of relief when she sees Deacon standing at the top of the stairs.

“Guys, it’s okay. He’s a friend”, Aly reassures them. Hancock and Fahr lower their weapons, but MacCready keeps his gun up, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “How do we know we can trust him.”

“Kid, he was quiet enough getting upstairs that if he wanted us dead, we’d be six feet under already. Besides,” he turns his attention to Aly, “if Sunshine here trusts him, we can trust him too.”

MacCready persists for a moment more before lowering his gun and tossing it onto the coffee table. Aly smiles at him, then trots over to Deacon and wraps an arm over his shoulder, an awkward task, considering the height difference between them. “This is Deacon. He’s not a bad guy, I promise. He saved my life out there when I was alone, and we watched each other’s backs all the way back here. He shot a couple Raiders between the eyes for me, and I did the same for him.”

“Saved your life?”, MacCready asks, a bit of anger present in his voice. “You went out alone and nearly died?”, MacCready demands, his voice level rising.

“I know, it was stupid to fight off all those super mutants alone, but I’m fine now. And Deacon was the one who saved me. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have made it.

“Deacon, the ghoul on the left is Mayor John Hancock, and the man on the right is MacCready, one of my friends. The woman over there pretending we don’t exist is Fahrenheit.”

MacCready ignores the introductions, and cuts right to the chase. “Alright sunglasses man, why were you there when Aly needed help anyway? She was traveling alone, meaning either she didn’t know you were there, or didn’t want you there.”

Deacon’s lips twitch up at the corners. “When I see a beautiful girl running around the Commonwealth alone, my gentleman’s instinct tells me to lend a hand where it’s needed.”

“You were _following_ her?”, MacCready asks, irritation present in his facial features.

“More or less, I suppose.”

“Kid,” Hancock interrupts, and all eyes in the room turn their attention to him, “leave the man alone. If he wouldn’t have been there, who’s to say Aly wouldn’t be standing here in one piece right now. Cut the man a break.”

Mac huffs, but doesn’t protest.

Hancock grabs a bottle of whisky and holds it up. “I think we could all use a drink.”

Aly and Deacon agree, but MacCready pushes past the both of them, heading up the stairs to the attic. Aly watches him leave over her shoulder, and feels her guts twist anxiously. She turns back around to see Hancock, drinking straight from the bottle before offering it out to her. Her breath flutters in her throat at Mac’s obvious distress, but she decides that she has a right to enjoy herself, and she plops herself down on the couch, takes the bottle from Hancock, and takes a long swig.

Her throat burns from the alcohol, but she isn’t complaining. In a world like this, the pain let’s her know that she is still alive. She offers the bottle to Deacon, who stares at the bottle, then at her. Aly rolls her eyes. “We’re all friends here. Either drink from the bottle like the rest of us, or you don’t get any.” Deacon grabs the bottle and takes a drink, longer than the drink Aly had taken, and leans back on the couch.

“So, Deacon,” Hancock starts, leaning forward on the couch and resting an elbow on either knee. “You been taking good care of our vault dweller?”

“The best I can. Haven’t been able to train her not to bite, though.” Aly snatches the bottle from him and takes a drink. “You’re the one that needs to be trained not to bite. Not to bark, too. You talked the whole trip back to Goodneighbor”, Aly retorts.

Deacon pretends to be offended, placing a hand to his heart. “You’re killing me, Charmer.”

They pass the bottle around many more times, until the bottle is empty, and Hancock appears with a new bottle. About halfway through that bottle, Fahrenheit has gone to the room across the hall to sleep, the mayor himself has passed out on the couch, and Deacon has both arms over the back of the couch, his head leaned back on the cushions, though Aly doubts he is actually asleep.

As quietly as she can, Aly stands up from the couch and tip toes over to the stairs, slowly climbing up them. When she reaches the top, she stops, giving her eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness. A figure comes into view, stretched out on one of the mattresses, legs crossed at the ankles, and arms behind their head. Their eyes are closed.

She slowly walks over to the mattress, sitting down on it and rubbing the man’s arm. “Mac.”

“Aly.”

The way he says her name makes her heart sting. She hates when her friends are upset with her. He opens his eyes, but doesn’t look at her, instead opting to place his attention on the ceiling. “He could’ve killed you, you know.”

Aly sighs. “I know.”

“When a strange guy you don’t know is following you around and then he saves your life, he’s expecting something in return. You’re one of the few good people, Aly. Not everyone is like you. Not everyone out here does things because their intentions are good.”

“What are you suggesting?”, Aly asks, tilting her head and crossing her legs underneath her.

“Whatever reason this guy gave for saving your life, he’s lying.”

Aly tilts her head more. “Why would he lie?”

“That’s just my point. You assume that nobody will lie because they’re good people. People here aren’t good, Aly. People here aren’t nice. The Commonwealth is a horrible, fu-freaking place. People lie, steal, and kill to get what they want, and you’re one of the only people I’ve ever met who’s the exception to that.”

Aly shakes her head. “Mac, I really don’t think he’s out to hurt me.”

Mac sighs and closes his eyes again. “Just be careful. Please.”

Aly nods and lays down on the mattress next to him, a wild concoction of emotions swirling around inside of her. She feels safe around Deacon, hell, she actually kind of likes him. Hancock seemed to like him too. But MacCready. . .

MacCready wraps one arm around Aly, pulling her to his side and rubs her shoulder. “I don’t want something bad to happen to you, and I won’t let something bad happen to you.”

Aly closes her eyes, and prays to whatever God there is that her companion is right, because she sure as hell feels safe in his arms.


	8. Jealousy is a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready doesn’t like Deacon, but Deacon doesn’t seem to notice or care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add some more context as to what’s going on in Mac’s head

Aly’s eyes are pried open by the sunlight pouring in through the dusty, cracked glass of the attic window. She groans and rolls over, pressing her face into the warm person beside her. She is comfortable for only a moment before her brain registers that the person beside her is MacCready, and she quickly pulls away, her face turning red. She hadn’t intended to be so close to her companion. They’d shared bedrolls and mattresses several times before, but she’d never snuggled up to him like this.

MacCready, already wide awake, pretends not to notice and stands up from the mattress, stretching his arms over his head, revealing a tiny peek of his pale hip. Aly bites her tongue at the sight of his hip bone jutting out from his slender body. “Glad you’re finally awake, Boss.”

Aly rubs her eyes painfully slowly and runs a hand through her tangled hair. “The time?”, she mumbles, barely enunciating both words. She sits up and stretches her back, grimacing as a sore spot on her spine pinches.

“8:00”, MacCready answers, kneeling on one knee and tightening the laces of one of his boots. “Ready to go when you are.”

With a groan, Aly slumps back onto the mattress, turning away from her companion. “Before the war, people’d sleep in ‘til _noon_.”

MacCready kneels down and gets right up in Aly’s personal space. “Well it’s not before the war anymore.”

Aly shoves her friend away playfully and giggles, but can’t help but feel her heart throb at the phrase. This new world isn’t a walk in the park. Things were easier before the vault. Not a whole hell of a lot easier, but there weren’t people out to kill her every waking moment. She hears bootsteps climbing the stairs casually, and she already knows who it is before she hears him talk.

“So Sister, have you heard from the Minuteman boy toy over at Sanctuary yet?”

Aly cracks a smile and shifts to lay on her back, holding her wrist up and clicking the pipboy on. The first time Mac had seen her wear the pip boy to sleep, he had poked fun at her, but having it handy at night had been useful on more occasions than one, and he only rolled his eyes when he realized that Aly had worn it to sleep yet again. Aly twisted the knob to Freedom Radio and waited patiently for a broadcast, closing her eyes and letting out a long yawn.

“Tired, Charmer?”

The voice was so close to her that it startled her, and she jumped back, bumping her head on the wooden wall. She clasped a hand to her hurt head and sat up to glare at the man responsible.  
  
Deacon sat inches away from her head on the floor near the top of the mattress. He must’ve been watching her fiddle around with the pip boy, which was obvious by his next statement. “It’s pretty cool that you’ve got a station set up to talk to the Minutemen. It’s always good to be able to get help or send help when needed, especially when help is as scarce as it is.”

Aly nods, and a broadcast echoes through the air. The broadcaster reports that the settlers of Jamaica Plain are being attacked by a group of Raiders that are holed up in a nearby building. Another settlement that needs help; what else is new?

Aly turns the frequency off and stands up, her legs wobbly as she still tries to overcome the sleep that had enveloped her just a few minutes earlier. She plants her feet solidly on the wooden floor and looks up at the three men in front of her. “Alright boys, this isn’t a big job, so I’m not going to need three additional sets of hands.”

Hancock opens his mouth to say something, but Aly intervenes. “I want MacCready and Deacon with me.”

Hancock closes his mouth and his eyes narrow slightly. “Are you sure you don’t want me coming along, Sunshine? I know my way around a gun, and you know I always bring the party along.”

Aly winces internally at the tone of Hancock’s voice. It’s that voice. The voice he uses when he’s hurt, but doesn’t want to admit he’s hurt. But, as much as she wants to bring him along, she knows she needs MacCready as a long distance shooter, and she told Desdemona that she’d let Deacon tag along with her for now. She straightens up and swallows down the anxious feeling that’s crawling up her throat and threatening to break free from her mouth. “John, Goodneighbor needs you. You’ve been gone for a while with me and Mac already, and there’s probably some catching up that you need to do here. Besides, I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to my favourite mayor, and you’ll be safer here.”

Hancock huffs, but doesn’t argue. “Alright Sister, if you’ve got your mind made up.” He turns his attention to Deacon and MacCready. “You two keep an eye on her. She comes back here hurt, and I’ll skin the both of you alive.” He smiles and turns on his boots and heads down the stairs, reaching around in his pockets while doing so. As he vanishes down the stairs, he fishes out a canister of jet and grins wider.

Aly returns her attention to the two remaining companions, and notes how uniquely they carry themselves. MacCready _appears_ laid back, but Aly knows he can whip out a gun and plant a bullet between someone’s eyes in less than a seconds notice. He’s tall and thin, and not very well muscled. Deacon, on the other hand, is _actually_ laid back. He’s slouching slightly, one hand in the pocket of his worn out jeans, and the other hand on his hip. His breathing is so slow and steady that the rise and fall of his chest is almost unnoticeable. He’s tall like MacCready, but has a different build. He’s more angular and muscular, and lacks the lanky look that MacCready has. Aly can see herself in the reflection in his sunglasses. She realizes that she’s staring, and she turns her sights away and speaks. “So, we’ve got a little bit of a trip. Jamaica Plain is south of here, which means we have a better chance of running into some of the Commonwealth wildlife, as well as ferals as we head into the town.”

“Let’s get going, then”, Deacon states, heading toward the staircase, “just know that I won’t be carrying you if your feet get tired.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not far out from the town, they stop to rest and eat before heading into town to report in to the settlement. Aly seats herself on an old crate, and MacCready leans against a tree a few feet away. Deacon plunks himself down next to Aly on the crate, which was small enough with only her on it, and feels incredibly smaller with the both of them on it. The right side of his hip presses to the left side of hers. “Come on, scooch over, Charmer.”

“Fat chance”, she replies, focusing on her pip boy, pretending to ignore Deacon.

Deacon tries to push her to the side a bit, but she doesn’t budge. “Charmer, can’t a tired man share a seat with a beautiful lady?”

Aly doesn’t respond aloud, but instead sticks her tongue out at him playfully. It’s been four days since they’ve left Goodneighbor. It shouldn’t have taken them four days to get here, but they ran into some super mutants along the way that Aly decided would be better if dealt with sooner instead of later.

And despite only traveling with Deacon for less than a week, he’s _really_ grown on her. They’ve been poking fun at each other, cracking jokes, and sharing drinks as though they’ve known each other for ages. They pick on each other like school children that have a crush on each other.

MacCready watches them play-fight over the crate, and he feels a small bubble of anger well up inside of him. Anger? Or maybe it’s jealously? It’s hard to tell. Jealousy and anger feel all too similar to him. He feels his face get hot as he takes in the fact that Deacon and Aly’s bodies are pressed together on the small crate, and neither of them seems to care how close they are.

It’s not fair. Aly was his friend long before this spy came along. And MacCready hasn’t forgotten that this assh- _guy_. . .had been following and spying on Aly without her knowing.

Everything about it was wrong. But looking at the way the two of them are behaving right now, you’d never know that they’d just met only a few days prior. MacCready hates it. He hates their _closeness_ , their _casualness_ , their _obliviousness_ to how badly he wants to gouge out this guy’s eyes.

Sure, Deacon had saved Aly’s life, but he saved her life because he had been stalking her and knew where she was when she needed help. It was creepy. _He_ is creepy. And those stupid sunglasses. . .MacCready wants nothing more than to snap them in half. This guy is a smug jerk.

Aly turns her body on the crate so she can lean her back on Deacon’s shoulder, and Deacon casually tosses his arm over her, resting his bicep on her shoulder, his forearm dangling inches away from her chest. MacCready bites his tongue at the motion, and it takes all of his strength not to lunge at Deacon. Deacon’s attention turns to MacCready and, despite the sunglasses, MacCready knows that the man is looking right at him. MacCready looks away, and begins counting his rounds to make sure he has enough ammunition.

Aly sets her wrist down, lowering the pip boy that she’d been ogling at. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Her new companion smells like cigarettes and some other scent that she can’t quite pin down. It reminds her of how hotel rooms before the war had smelled, but it’s different than that. Stray strands of her hair swirl around in the warm breeze, and she opens her eyes. “Deacon?”

“Charmer.”

“What was your life like before you joined The Railroad?”

Deacon adjusted his sunglasses, then placed a hand flat on the crate behind him to prop himself up. “Well, I had a nice little thing going for a while. Had a wife and everything. But times change.”

Aly cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder. “You had a wife?”

Deacon nods and makes a popping noise with his lips. “I had a lot of things that I don’t have anymore.” He looks at Aly out the side of his shades. “What about you? You’re from way before my time. What was your life like before the war?”

Deacon feels Aly’s muscles tense up, and he knows he’s hit a sore spot in her memories. He opens his mouth to take it back, to make some witty remark, but Aly speaks first. “Life wasn’t much easier then than it is now.”

She turns her face away from Deacon, resting her back more heavily against him. “Things change, times change, but people. . .people _never_ change.”

Deacon nods in agreement. “I’ll drink to that.”

MacCready watches the two of them, whispering back and forth. Their bodies are extremely close together, and MacCready wonders why they’re conversing in lowered voices. Are they talking about him?

MacCready attempts to ignore it, and takes a small canteen from the pack that lay at his feet, and he uncaps it and takes a long drink. He nearly chokes on his water when Aly turns to face the spy, their faces mere inches apart. But they only stay like that for a moment before Aly turns back around and leans against Deacon again, facing away.

MacCready realizes how tightly clenched his fists are, and he releases his hold. There are nail marks dug into his hands from his own force, and he rubs his sore palm with his calloused fingers. He looks up at Aly and Deacon from under his hat, before looking back down at the ground.

Deacon can go to hel- _heck_.

Deacon can go to _heck_.


	9. Skepticism Equals Distrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly, MacCready, and Deacon head into Jamaica Plain and talk with the settlers before going to take out the Raiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many ideas for future chapters, but I just need to get there first. Building characters and developing relationships between characters takes a lot more work than most people give credit for.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if Deacon seems like a jerk in this chapter. He's not a jerk, I promise. There will be more character development for him.

Deacon is thankful for his sunglasses. Not only did their reputation as sunglasses precede them (as they did do very nicely at being two hunks of glass protecting his eyes from the sun), they also helped him keep up his whole 'spy' persona. He could look at whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, for whatever reason he wanted, and nobody could tell where or who his eyes were trained on. In an earlier situation, he was thankful for the glasses because he had seen how irritated the merc kid had been getting earlier without the kid having known he had noticed. The closer Charmer had gotten to him, the more visibly irritated the man got. It was almost ironic. The athletic, young man, the perfect picture of everything that the wasteland was, was getting annoyed at Deacon, the obviously older, arguably less in shape, and noticeably less serious man. Deacon had more experience with the hellish Commonwealth than this guy, but the kid was arguably more suited for the 'Wealth than himself. And MacCready, the human version of the Commonwealth wanted the one thing in this world that reeked not of the Commonwealth, but of a time before. He wanted Aly.

 

Another reason Deacon was thankful for the glasses, though, was because with Aly currently just a few paces ahead of himself, he could keep a close eye on her. Or, the parts of her backside that were the most appealing, anyway. Hancock had made a joke during their previous week's drinking circle about how the vault dweller's hips swayed perfectly, something that Deacon was seeing evidence of now. To the left of him, slightly behind him and walking slightly slower was MacCready. MacCready had his gun out, lowered, and Deacon could see the kid staring at him in his peripheral vision. He turned to look at him over his shoulder, and MacCready quickly looked away. "You know, there's no shame in staring. Not everyone can look  _this_ good", Deacon jokes, gesturing to his body, and MacCready only scoffs in response.

 

Aly doesn't respond at all to the joke, and Deacon's lips press into a thin line. He speeds up his steps to walk alongside her, but she doesn't acknowledge him. Her eyes are trained straight ahead on the town on the horizon. The closer they draw to the town, the better Deacon can assume what the layout is. From here, it looks like the town hall is almost directly in the center of the town, with predominantly businesses to one side of the larger town hall building, and suburbs on the other side. Deacon can see distress on Aly's facial  features, but she is doing her best to subdue the expression. Deacon can see right through it. "What's up Charmer?"

 

"Nothing", she answers in a dull tone.

 

Deacon reaches for her shoulder and squeezes it firmly. "Come on, Charmer. What's on that mind of yours?"

 

She glances at him briefly but quickly returns her attention to the upcoming town. "Do I trust people too easily?"

 

MacCready looks up at her words and walks a little faster, putting him withing ear's reach of their conversation. Deacon shrugs and responds casually. "I'll play my cards honestly with you. You definitely trust people a lot more than anyone else in the Commonwealth would, but that does have its perks."

 

"Like what?", she retorts.

 

"If you didn't put trust in other people, you wouldn't have decided to let me tag along with you", MacCready pipes up, and Aly glances back at him and smiles before turning her gaze to the ashen ground underneath their boots. "I guess that's true", she responds, sidestepping to avoid a crater-like pothole in the asphalt of the road.

 

"But you shouldn't trust everyone.  _Especially_ not people that you don't know a lot about", MacCready adds, giving an annoyed stare at Deacon.

 

Aly catches the spike of venom in his voice and gives him a dead look. "I don't know a lot about you either, Mac. Deacon isn't exactly the only mystery man here", she closes her eyes and stops walking, turning on her heel to look at both of them ,"but that really doesn't matter. I  _know_  I can trust both of you, regardless of how much or how little I know about your lives before I met you.

 

Deacon opens his mouth to respond with a witty quip, but closes his mouth when Aly gives him a reprimanding glare. Aly looks between the both of them before turning back around to face the town before them. From a distance, it had been obvious that the town was in disarray, but this was worse than it had looked from a half mile away.  A car pileup sits in the middle of the road a couple hundred feet ahead, and ghouls bumble around awkwardly avoiding the torn pieces of metal and stray tires. A body of what appears to be a trader lays face down in front of the car wreck, two ghouls feasting happily on the guy's back.

 

Aly crouches down as a ghoul looks in their direction, and both companions do the same. "What's the plan, Boss?" MacCready asks, holding his gun up and training his sights on the ghoul closest to the three of them. Aly's eyes dart around the area ahead as she mentally counts the ghouls. "It doesn't look like there's a whole lot of them, but I don't doubt that more will come running if they hear gunfire. We have enough ammo to take out all of them, even if there are some surprise ghouls to deal with.

 

"Mac, you're better at shooting long distance, so you can stay back here and take them out one by one. Deacon and I will take them closer. We both have handguns, and knives if it comes down to that. Deacon is quiet, and will be able to sneak up on at least one or two of these bitches before they realize what's going on and run towards the noise. I'll try to shoot them as they come running, but I have a knife too, just in case." 

 

"You sure you want to get up close and personal with those things?" MacCready asks, lowering his gun and looking over at Aly. "Something gives me the idea that these aren't the kind of ghouls that inhale jet and hit on hot chicks."

 

Aly lets out a small laugh, and a grin crosses her lips. The laugh is something that resembles a broken exhale more than an actual laugh, and she motions for Deacon to follow her forward. The two of them approach the car pileup quietly. Deacon's footsteps are silent, but Aly's boots click quietly along the pavement. She winces at the sound, but knows it won't be enough to alert these ferals. About thirty feet away, they duck behind a flipped car. Aly looks up to MacCready who is still farther up the hill. He nods at her, and she slowly comes out from behind the car, crouched low with her gun ready. 

 

A throaty growl to her left causes her to jump and she stands upright and fires the gun towards the area that the sound had come from. The gunshot echoes through the streets and bounces off of brick buildings and metal bus stops. She winces and bites her tongue.  _Shit_.

 

A ghoul emerges from underneath the truck to her left, no doubt the source of the noise. The ghouls at the car pileup look up at the sound, and all of them turn their gazes to Aly. She plants a bullet in the head of the feral near the truck, then sprints forward toward all the ghouls now stumbling around the cars to get to her. "Deacon! Let's go!", she shouts, aiming her gun and letting another bullet fly, this one grazing the leg of a charging feral, but not disabling it. Deacon raises his gun and fires off three shots. Each bullet finds a new home in the skull of a feral ghoul, and Aly smiles, impressed by his accuracy. She keeps the gun raised and fires off the rest of the ammo in the barrel, some bullets reaching their targets, others missing and landing in brick buildings nearby. 

 

Aly quickly reloads her gun but drops the bullets from her hand. "Fuck", she breathes, quickly kneeling and scrambling to gather the bullets as ghouls get closer to her. A pair of hands collide with her back and send her tumbling forward into the pavement. She groans as her chin cracks against the ground, causing her to bite her lip. Warm blood drips from her lip down her chin as she whirls around to fight off her attacker. The ghoul that had knocked her down chomps at her face as Aly braces her hands against its chest, holding it back. She is forced down onto her back, the feral's face mere inches from her own, it's hot, rotten breath warm on her face. She makes a quick move and grabs her gun from beside her with one hand, keeping the other hand on the feral's chest. In a split second there is a gunshot as she unloads a bullet into the ghoul's face, and its moist blood splatters onto her and the ground around her. She wipes her face on her arm, clearing ghoul blood from her vision before scrambling to her feet. Ghouls are coming at her from all directions, and her box of ammo is lost somewhere on the ground. She spots the box just as a ghoul runs over it, racing towards her and growling.

 

"Deacon!" she shouts, looking around for her companion. She feels a hand grab her wrist and tug her towards a building. There is no visible wrist on her arm and her heart accelerates even more before she remembers that ' _yes Aly, stealth boys are a thing that exist_ '. She is half dragged and half runs toward the building as the invisible force races toward the building. As they run at the doorway of the building, which Aly can now tell was either a restaurant or a bar of sorts, a grenade emerges from the invisible mass in front of her and lands in the doorway. They both leap over the grenade and into the building, booking it for a door in the wall behind the filthy counter. The door flies open and her and her invisible companion fall inside as the grenade detonates, slamming the door behind them. She holds her hands over her head and neck and hunkers down in the dark, small space as debris collapses in the area outside of this tiny room. After what seems like several minutes, but was probably only a couple of seconds, of debris collapsing, the noise quiets down. She opens her eyes, but she can barely see in the darkness. She clicks her pipboy on, basking the room in a green glow. She appears to be the only one in the room, but the laboured breathing of her companion tells her otherwise.

 

She can't see Deacon, but she can feel warmth under her legs and in front of her. She tilts her head to look around and realizes that they've hidden in a ridiculously small storage closet behind the bar. She gives her heart a minute to stop racing and allows herself to breathe. "You alright?" she asks, looking over her own body for any injuries. 

 

"Yeah, I'm good" Deacon's voice responds, and he shimmers into view as the stealth boy wears off. His face is only an inch away from Aly's, and she can see her wide eyes reflected in his sunglasses. "I'm  _great_ actually", he adds, grinning.

 

Aly's face burns hotly as she realizes the position they're currently in. She is propped up on Deacon's lap, her body pressed right up against his. She tries to back up, but the closet is so small that she isn't able to, and she just bumps her head and back on the wall. His legs are underneath him, and her legs are on either side of his. She quickly looks away, the hot feeling overtaking her whole face. "Aw, did I make Charmer blush?", he asks, his grin growing wider. Aly doesn't say anything, but can't help but look back up at Deacon, finding herself in the reflection of his glasses again. Her hair is a tousled mess, as is his, and both of them are covered in a layer of dirt. "Sorry", she apologizes awkwardly, reaching for the door handle. Her eyes widen even more when she turns the door handle and it doesn't budge at all. "I think we're-"

 

"Caved in", Deacon finishes, looking up at the door handle. "The grenade must've knocked a lot of the building in."

 

"Well, what now?", Aly asks, trying to readjust herself to be seated on her partner less, but only succeeds in rubbing against him more.

 

"We wait. Your little merc pal will come get us soon enough, right?"

 

Aly doesn't answer, but nods in agreement. She is still looking at the door, but she can feel Deacon's eyes on her. She wonders what his eyes look like behind the shades. The wall creaks suddenly and they both gasp as they plaster cracks and the wall leans in, pushing Aly closer to her companion. "If this building collapses any more, we're not going to make it", she mumbles, pressing a hand to the wall and feeling the building vibrate as the structure struggles to uphold its remaining weight.

 

"Well then, we better make the most of our time."

 

The gears in Aly's mind stop whirring when she hears the statement, and the tight space is completely quiet. They can feel the rise and fall of each other's chests, she can feel gentle air from his nostrils on her face, she can hear her own heart in her ears, and almost imagines that she can hear Deacon's heart as well, thumping right along in tune with her own. Her mind is numb as she leans her forehead against his, closing her eyes. Their lips touch, and an inexplicable wave of excitement washes over Aly. She no longer feels afraid of the building collapsing, or of the ferals that could still be running around outside. Right now all that matters is the electric shock traveling through her body as Deacon's lips press against her own. Deacon pulls away and looks at Aly with a serious expression. "Charmer, are you sure-"

 

She grabs his face with both hands and kisses him with more force than before, her teeth clashing into his bottom lip. He grunts at the sudden contact, but both of his hands meet her lower back and pull her closer. "Shut up and kiss me", she manages out as just a mumbled whisper into her companion's lips. She sits up farther so she can pull his face up into the kiss, and they both groan at the way that the new angle feels. She feels some movement underneath her, and it takes her a moment to register that she is sitting on her friend's lap and that the movement isn't just the building shifting. She gasps lightly and leans back to look at him. He just grins and kisses at her chin and neck. She rolls her neck at the gesture and sighs. "Deacon-"

 

Before she can get out the rest of that thought, the door to the closet swings open outwards and the door jamb splinters without the weight of the door to help support the weight of the caving roof. Bright light shines into the tiny closet, and Aly holds an arm up to shield her face. Her eyes adjust to the light and the scene in front of her slowly comes into view. MacCready stands in the doorway, mouth agape slightly as his eyes dart between Aly and Deacon in their compromising position. Aly clears her throat and quickly scrambles to her feet and steps out of the closet, pushing past the merc. MacCready glances at her, then turns his sights back to Deacon who still sits on the closet floor. MacCready crosses his arms and huffs, then turns around to follow Aly out of the building. 

 

Deacon rubs his numb lips and grins. MacCready can get as mad as he wants, Deacon will never regret the moment he just shared with Aly.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The three of them waltz into town, each person with a different skip in their step. Aly walks quickly, trying to ignore the painful hickey she can feel forming on her neck from her. . . _situation_. .with Deacon. Her lips are parted and she breathes heavily, partially due to the kissing in the closet, and partially due to her walking so quickly to stay ahead of Mac and Deacon, unable to look at either of them. MacCready follows Aly closely, his mouth forming a frown. Deacon swaggers along behind both of them, walking as though he has not a care in the world. Sure, MacCready was likely to throw a temper tantrum about the scene he'd walked in on, but Deacon will deal with that issue when it presents itself.

 

Aly pushes through the gate leading up to the Jamaica Plain settlement, and it creaks open loudly, and several faces of settlers looked up to see her and her companions enter the small settlement. Most of the settlers look back down and return to their work, some continuing to till soil for crops, others scavenging for supplies for their settlement. A mallet can be heard hammering a metal sheet in the distance. One settler approaches Aly and her companions, a woman with mousy brown hair and a dirt-stained face. "Hey General, I'm guessing you heard our call for help?"

 

Aly nods. "Yeah, we heard and we're here to help. Give me the details." Aly and the settler walk off into the building, talking about the Raiders and how to deal with them, leaving Deacon and MacCready alone in the small area in front of the building. Aly had fenced in the settlement not too long ago, and the walled in area in front of the building felt small and cramped, especially with the amount of tension that MacCready was radiating. Deacon rests an arm on MacCready's shoulder, his other hand on his hip. "So, what do you say to-"

 

"Don't talk to me fuc- _jerk_." MacCready shoves away from Deacon and heads into the building, leaving Deacon alone in the 'courtyard', if you'd even call it that. The tone of MacCready's voice is like a punch to the stomach, and Deacon mentally winces at the level of anger in the kid's voice, but he doesn't show it; just shrugs and leans against one of the walls, waiting for Aly to return so they can get on with their mission. Whatever, Deacon isn't the confrontational type, but he'll deal with MacCready if he has to. He will never admit it, but he hates when people are upset with him. And his intention wasn't to upset MacCready. He and Aly were just crammed together in a tight space and adrenaline was pumping and one thing just led to another. Regardless, he doesn't want MacCready to be on bad terms with him.

 

He may not like the hired gun, but he doesn't want Aly's best friend to be mad at him either.


	10. Loathing Versus Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is bitter, Deacon is concerned, Aly is along for the ride. Also, there's a little bit in store for the readers waiting for Aly and Mac to share romantic interest. More on that in the next chapter.
> 
> WARNING: There is some violence in this chapter that may be upsetting to some readers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 1 in the morning after a thirteen hour work day, so excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes that might be within this chapter. I finished writing it at roughly six in the morning, but didn't post it until a little bit later. Enjoy, and thank you for reading and supporting my work!
> 
> (In this chapter, I'm kind of imagining that there's a large house just outside of Jamaica Plain. I know that there isn't actually a location like this in the game, so I used my imagination)

Aly emerges from the house and is taken aback slightly by the sky, which has darkened noticeably since she was last outside twenty minutes earlier. A radstorm, no doubt, probably rolling in from the Glowing Sea. A lightning strike breaks through the clouds to the east of the settlement, branching off into several bright limbs before quickly vanishing. Aly takes note of where the storm seems to be the worst, mentally calculates how long it'll be before the storm is directly above her, then returns her attention to the task at hand.

 

Deacon is leaning against the settlement's wall next to the gate, looking ahead towards Aly. She can feel his eyes on her, despite the fact that his glasses block her eyes from meeting his. She breaks her gaze witch Deacon and looks around for MacCready. She peeks into the garage and also checks the garden next to the main building, but can't find the merc. She rests her hands on her hips and runs her eyes along the wall, searching for her companion. Her eyes trail up wooden supports to the guard post, where she spots a familiar duster and the back of a familiar head. 

 

Aly approaches the guard tower and climbs the steps slowly, the wooden planks creaking with every step. MacCready doesn't acknowledge Aly's presence, though Aly is certain that he is aware she is behind him. "Mac?", she places a hand on his back, rubbing his tense muscles and looking over his shoulder. He has his gun raised and he's looking through the scope out across the large lake in the middle of Jamaica Plain. 

 

Aly rests her head on his shoulder, trying to look down the barrel of the sniper rifle to get an idea of where her friend is aiming. "Stop", MacCready mutters, shrugging Aly off of him. He fires the gun and pulls back on the charge handle, reloading the gun in an almost mechanical manner. He's probably done it a thousand times, so it doesn't surprise Aly at how effortlessly he does it, but it still amazes her at how smoothly he handles his weapons. Aly follows his eyes and squints out at the foggy area over the lake in a failed attempt to see what he's shooting at. "What are you hunting?"

 

"Ferals." The gun fires again and MacCready goes through the same motion of reloading without skipping a beat. Aly runs her hand over his shoulder, squeezing the tense muscle and massaging out the stiffness. "I talked with a few of the settlers, and they pointed me in the direction of the Raiders. I'm ready to go after them if you are."

 

He fires one last time before returning the gun to its position on his back. He turns around casually and strolls down the stairs, not stealing even one glance at Aly. She feels her throat tighten at the passive aggressive jab, but says nothing as she follows him down the steps and towards the gate. As they reach the gate, Deacon uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off the wall nonchalantly, sidling up next to Aly who is walking a few paces behind MacCready. "Back on the road again?" Deacon jokes. Aly nods, MacCready doesn't respond at all.

 

The air is tense as they leave the settlement. Nobody says anything, and the only noises are the ambient sounds of the Commonwealth and the sound of their boots on the cracked asphalt. Every now and then they'll slow down to avoid mongrels or speed up to get away from oncoming radstags, but nobody says a word. The more they walk, the thinner the housing gets. Less and less houses on either side of the road, until the road branches off into one long driveway twisting up a tall hill. They stop at the bottom of the driveway, and the three pairs of eyes trace the path up the hill where it connects to a garage, which is attached to a fairly large house. "This is the place", Aly states, crouching down and removing her pack from her back. She drops it to the ground and tugs it open, rifling around in it until she finds a (heavily modded) handgun. She loads the gun and shoves it into her belt, rifling around the bag and moving the stimpacks so that they're at the top of the bag for easy access. She closes the bag and hauls it onto her back again, then stands and wipes dust from her face.

 

"Alright, this is how we're going to do this. The settlers told me that there's lots of traffic in and out of this place, meaning that there are probably more Raiders on the way. Deacon, I want you to stay here and deal with any trouble that might come our way while Mac and I take out all the assholes inside of the house. Got that?"

 

Deacon gives a thumbs up and pulls out a stealth boy, clicking it on and shimmering into invisibility. Aly turns to MacCready, who has switched out his sniper rifle for a smaller, more efficient combat rifle. He has just finished loading the gun, and he adjusts the rounds of ammo strapped to his thigh before looking up at her. This is the first time he's actually looked at her in a while, and his eyes look sad somehow. Aly takes note of the melancholy look in his eyes, but files it away in her mind to deal with later. MacCready is important to her, one of the most important things in the world to her, but she can't put his emotions at a higher level of importance than the lives of all the settlers that are endangered by these Raiders. Aly nods, MacCready returns the nod, and they begin to ascend the hill. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Upon reaching the top of the hill, the two of them crouch alongside the tall, overgrown hedges, and slowly make their way up to the front patio. Two Raiders stand on the patio: one is a woman with dark paint smeared across her dirty face, and another is a tall, lanky man with a sack hood over his head. They're facing opposite directions, with one facing north and one facing south, but neither of them looking directly at the front steps. Aly pulls out a knife and turns to MacCready, who immediately picks up on her idea and grabs a pocketknife from his pocket. Though no words are passed between them, they communicate their idea perfectly. They both silently crouch up the steps, Aly headed to the right towards the female Raider and MacCready to the left towards the male Raider. When she is only a few inches behind the Raider, Aly looks over her shoulder to see MacCready crouched in the same position, looking back for her signal. Aly turns the blade over in her hand and stands quickly, wrapping a hand over the Raider's mouth and slicing the knife across their throat. She hears a choked gurgle from behind her, which alerts her that the male Raider has also been taken care of. The female Raider squirms under Aly's grip for only a few seconds before her body goes limp and Aly tosses her to the ground. Blood has pooled on the porch and is running in rivers down the wooden planks and off of the patio, leaving droplets of red in the dirt. Two Raiders down, probably thirty more to go.

 

Aly and MacCready head to the front door, and they press their backs to the house, each one of them on either side of the doorway. Typically, Aly would be more of a 'sneak in the back door and kill them off one by one' kind of person, but there are far too many Raiders for her and her companion to take that route, so she has instead planned on going in guns blazing. She pulls out her gun and checks once more to make sure she has enough ammo, then she charges out in front of the door and plants a firmly placed boot the the old door.

 

The door breaks from its rusted hinges and is sent flying into the house from the force of her kick. Aly charges in and starts raining bullets over the Raiders, MacCready by her side, doing the same. The room they are currently fighting in appears to be the remnants of a large pre-war formal living room. Luxurious couches with shredded cushions covered in dust provide cover for Aly and her companion. They effortlessly take out all the Raiders in the first room, but can hear shouts from approaching Raiders. Aly and MacCready drop to the ground behind one of the couches, chests heaving as they pant audibly. Aly turns her head to look at her friend as adrenaline pumps through her veins. She's smiling wide from the excitement of the moment, MacCready is grinning back and Aly feels her heart soar. She stands up quickly and whips her gun up just in time to meet the oncoming Raiders as they barge into the room. All of them hit the ground lifeless, earning Aly a nod of approval from MacCready. The two of them go from room to room, using furniture as cover as they take out each and every Raider they encounter. They take down every Raider they see on the first and second floor. When the last Raider hits the floor, Aly whoops with excitement, punching at the air. She whirls around to face MacCready who is also grinning. Without thinking twice (or thinking at all, really) her lips collide with MacCready's, her arms around his neck. She feels every one of his muscles tense up under her touch for a split second before he gratuitously returns the kiss, placing both of his hands on her head to pull her closer. They breathe heavy into the kiss, which is deep and electric, as though every fiber of their being has been invested in this contact alone. And for one moment, it's like the Commonwealth doesn't exist. When their lips retreat, they both share a smile and then haul ass across the house and to the basement.

 

The basement door is long gone, and the wooden door frame is fragmented with splintery pieces sticking up like thorns on a rose bush. Aly and MacCready head carefully through the doorway and begin the trip down to the basement, the stairs creaking in agitation with every step. There is a wall to one side of the stairs, and a concrete banister to the other side. The basement is dark, but as the pair's eyes adjust, they can see a lantern emanating a flickering light farther off in the expansive dark room. The lantern sits on the concrete floor, casting light onto barrels and boxes nearby. At the bottom step, Aly stops to reload her gun and MacCready walks into her, not having realized in time that his partner had stopped walking. "Sorry", he mumbles, resting his head on Aly's shoulder and staring towards the lantern. "I think there's another lantern through that door", MacCready adds, nodding to a room off to the left of the stairs. Aly hadn't seen it when she first scanned the basement, but there was definitely a door just past the lantern on the floor, and there was another light source emanating from under the door. Aly leans her head against MacCready's head on her shoulder, trying to get a better look at the lantern. "Yeah, yeah I think you're right", she whispers. MacCready's stubble tickles her cheek and she shrugs him off and crouches down, heading towards the basement's room. MacCready follows closely behind, his boots landing a little harder on the floor than Aly wishes they would. Aly stops inches away from the door and MacCready, again, misses her stopping and bumps into her. Aly makes a face at him over her shoulder, and MacCready half shrugs as if to say 'sorry, it's dark'.

 

But MacCready doesn't back up, and his chest remains flat against Aly's back. Aly thinks nothing of it; her and MacCready are really touchy friends, so it has never been an issue to her when their bodies find themselves together. Besides, he's probably avoiding moving so that he doesn't make any unnecessary noise. However, she feels a tingle of electricity ricochet up her back at the contact, which is definitely a new sensation to her. She ignores it and tries to remain focused. They both sit still, listening. Movement can be heard on the other side of the door, as well as the occasional whisper or sniffle. "D'you think they know we're here?", MacCready asks as quietly as possible. 

 

Aly shrugs. "Probably. We weren't exactly quiet when we were taking out all of their friends upstairs." Aly gets to her feet and reaches for the door handle, gun at the ready in her other hand. But when she pushes the door open, she isn't met with the sight she was expecting. 

 

Just inside the room are at least half a dozen people, some of them gagged, most of them in handcuffs. Aly's jaw drops as her eyes dart from one person to another and she lowers her gun, her adrenaline faltering. She finds herself at a loss for words, but luckily, her companion speaks exactly what was on her mind. "Who the hel- _heck_ , are you people?"

 

The people exchange frightened glances before one of them speaks up. "Wait, I know you", he notes, looking at Aly, "you're the leader of the Minutemen!"

 

 "I am", Aly responds, the words sounding almost like a question, as though she's not sure whether its a good thing that these people know who she is. 

 

"You're here to rescue us!", a woman from the back of the room shouts, which earns several excited shouts.

 

Aly tries to find her words as she looks from person to person, not recognizing any of them, and unable to grasp the situation at hand. One person in the room seems to notice her confusion, an older woman with an aged face and kind eyes, and she steps forward. "Sorry, this must all be a lot for you to take in. Those. . . _bastards_ that were upstairs, they had been holding us hostage. They came in the night and took us from our settlement, hoping that the General of the Minutemen would come looking for us. They had planned on taking you out when you arrived, but it looks like they're plan might've backfired _just a little_. We're settlers under a settlement established by the Minutemen. We're from Egret Tours Marina."

 

Aly takes in the woman's appearance for a moment longer before she recognizes her. Yes, she definitely knows this woman, she remembers discussing the layout of the settlement with her after she had first gotten a hold on the marina. She had spoken with the women about whether it would be more effective to have a bunkhouse or individual cabins, as well as where the best place for a general goods trader and a clinic would be. Aly clears her throat before speaking. "Right, sorry, I'm not very good with faces and names, but I do remember helping out at the settlement. It's a bit of a walk from here, but I think it would be best for me and my companions to escort you back to your home. We took out all the Raiders that had been here at the moment, but its very possible that there might be more on the way, and I'm certain they'd become hostile if they saw their hostages heading home."

 

The woman nods. "It would be a dangerous trip to go it alone. The Raiders took most of our weapons and stashed them upstairs. We can retrieve them now, but an army of settlers with pipe pistols might have a real hard time holding off some skilled Raiders. As much as I would like to tell you to go help other settlements, I think we still need your help in getting home safely."

 

Aly crosses her arms and puts on her best General-of-the-Minutemen voice and speaks aloud. "I need two of you to go upstairs and retrieve all of your weapons and disperse them evenly to the group here. You three over there, I need you to go outside and secure the brahmin that the Raiders have tied out back. The Raiders won't be using them anymore, and the brahmin can carry the few of you that are injured on the trek back to your settlement. The rest of you, gather what belongings you have and cavenge any materials and rations here that could be useful. Let's get this show on the road." As soon as the words had left her tongue, she could already hear Hancock's raspy voice in the back of her mind. ' _Well Sunshine, let's get this freak show on the road_.'

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

In what seems like a fairly short span of time, but which is probably closer to three hours, the settlers along with Aly, MacCready, and Deacon are on the road to Egret Tours Marina and the sun has started to set. Aly stops and raises her voice, "Okay everyone, it's getting dark. The best course of action will be to set up camp here for the night. I saw that some of you had grabbed some water proof tarps and plywood. I have some bungee rope in my pack that would could use to hold the tarps and plywood as tents." Before she has a chance to direct the settlers on who should be doing what, they have already managed to unpack the tarps from the crudely packaged items strapped to the brahmin, and have begun setting up camp. Aly crosses her arms over her chest, impressed. A hand lands on her shoulder, and she glances over her shoulder only to see her own image reflected back at her in a pair of dark shades. Deacon doesn't say anthing, just looks at his friend a moment before walking away and lighting a cigarette. 

 

Aly watches him walk away, taking note of his stance, his posture, and the speed at which he's walking away. He's walking casually, which is something he always does, but he's walking  _so_ casually that it tips her off. He's not swaying his arms as much either. He's clearly got something on his mind. She's considering walking after him to confront him about what's on his mind when she is called over by a settler asking for help with one of the tents. She takes one look back at Deacon before heading over to the settler.

 

The settler had already enlisted the help of MacCready, but fashioning a tent out of simple materials like this was more than a two person job. Aly approaches and holds the wooden plank up while MacCready uses the bungee cord to tie everything together, and the settler flattens out another tarp inside the tent so that nobody will have to sleep on the cold, hard ground. As MacCready wraps the cord, he speaks. "So. . .are we going to talk about earlier or-"

 

"No", Aly responds quickly, watching Deacon over her shoulder. MacCready continues working, not looking at his companion. "Are we not going to talk about it  _now_ or are we not going to talk about it  _ever_?"

 

"Not now", Aly responded, watching as Deacon taps his cigarette, sending glowing embers swirling into the wind. 

 

"Are we not talking about it because of Deacon or-"

 

"Mac.  _Not. Now._ "

 

He shrugs and finishes wrapping one part of the tent together, then walks to the other side of the tent to do the same with the other post. "Ok, cool. Sounds good. It's not like I wanted to talk about it anyway. Or think about it. Or consider acting on any of those residual feelings from the moment." Aly looks up at her companion and he smiles back at her jokingly. Aly sighs and rolls her eyes before her eyes meet the sunset just in time to watch the sun set over the horizon. She quickly makes a firepit and lights it so that there will be a light source without her or the settlers having to use batteries for flashlights. She dips a stick into the fire until it catches, then uses the stick to light a few lanterns as well. When all is well and everybody seems at least mostly content, Aly collapses into one of the tents, sighing deeply and using her arm as a pillow. Her body feels heavy from mental and physical exhaustion. She is seconds away from passing out when she hears a voice from the opening of the tent. "Knock knock, is it okay if I sleep here?"

 

Aly just groans and rolls over, and the voice takes that as a yes. She feels movement and hears the tarp crinkle as a body lays behind her own. Through the exhaustion, her curiosity gets the better of her and she rolls back over to check and see if the voice belongs to who she thinks it belongs to. Her eyes meet a pair of crisp blue eyes and she feels herself get even more tired. The companion removes his merc cap and places it on her head. She scoots closer to her companion so that their bodies are just barely touching, and she allows her exhausted body and tired mind to be taken over by the peaceful blanket of sleep.


	11. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready and Aly have a (much awaited) discussion, Mac lets on about his past, Aly agrees to help Mac with something that’s very important to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I’m really sorry it took me so long to post this. I’ve been so caught up with university and work that I haven’t had any time to sit down and write. 
> 
> Secondly, I’m going to divulge now that I modified Mac’s affinity conversation with the vault dweller for this chapter. I felt like I needed to add in some information that wasn’t meant to come up until his final affinity conversation, and there were also some parts about Little Lamplight that I left out. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and supporting my work; it really means a lot to me to hear feedback!
> 
> IMPORTANT: at this point in the story, it is to be assumed that Aly has already helped Mac to take out Winlock and Barnes.

Aly is half sleep ridden when her dreamy state is interrupted by something uncomfortably prodding the back of her thighs. She groans in annoyance at the pesky sensation and tries to move away, but finds herself trapped in Mac’s arms, her companion still sound asleep. She huffs and reaches a hand between her and her companion determined to move whatever travel pack or out of place gun is pressed harshly to her upper thigh and keeping her from sleeping.

 

Her hand meets fabric and she feels relief at her hand not meeting metal. Knowing MacCready, he would be the type of person to sleep with a loaded gun. Her hand instead meets fabric, and she assumes it’s a bulky item in a bag or pack causing the discomfort against her backside. But as she feels around she realizes that the hardness isn’t some piece of wasteland junk that somebody had stashed in a bag for later. No, as her fingers move over the bulging source of her discomfort, a few point realizations blossom in her conscience.

 

1: The hardness is radiating warmth

 

2: Her companion is too close for there to be a travel pack full of junk between them

 

And as her fingers glide over a stitched seam and a button, the key and lock in her brain click and she yanks her hand away, in awe.

 

She was just groping her companion’s morning wood.

 

She stays silent, praying to whatever God might be listening that MacCready really truly is asleep, and he doesn’t realize what just happened.

 

She hears a chuckle behind her and she mentally curses herself. “If you wanted to wake me, a simple nudge of the shoulder would’ve worked”, MacCready jokes, sitting up and stretching both arms over his head.

 

Aly’s face burns in embarrassment and she covers her eyes with a hand, an awkward smile on her face as she tries not to laugh nervously. “I didn’t know. . .I mean, I didn’t _want_ to-“

 

She can’t find the words she’s looking for, and MacCready laughs again. “Whatever. We’ll pretend this never happened— on one condition. “

 

Aly rolls onto her back and looks up at her companion who is sitting cross legged beside her on the tarp. “Oh yeah? What condition is that?”, she asks, cocking a brow.

 

“We talk about what happened yesterday.”

 

Aly groans in annoyance and rolls back to her previous position with her back to her companion. But he continues, “ _And_ we talk about what happened between you and Deacon when we were battling off those feral ghouls while coming into Jamaica Plain.”

 

Aly feels her muscles involuntarily stiffen at the mention of her and Deacon’s little hot moment during their fight with the ferals. Her companion can’t see her face from this angle, so she tries to lie her way out of the conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mac. Nothing happened between Deacon and I. We were fighting off the ferals and we got backed into the building and it collapsed, so we hid in the closet where it’d be safe and-“

 

She’s interrupted by her companion laughing, and she feels a pang of anger rise up inside of herself. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Boss, we _both_ know that’s not how it happened.”

 

She swallows the quiver in her voice and responds as calmly as she can. “That’s what happened.”

 

“And that’s why I found you perched upon his lap, crammed into a closet together? With practically a string of saliva connecting your lips? Not to mention that he was rock hard for almost twenty minutes after the fact-“

 

“Mac.”

 

MacCready closes his mouth, and Aly sits up and faces him, looking into his eyes, deciding to try for honesty instead of lies. “It was a heat of the moment thing. The adrenaline was pumping and it just kind of happened.” She ruffles her tangled hair, and bites her tongue while making her final statement. “It didn’t mean anything.”

 

MacCready crosses his arms over his chest and speaks with a teasing tone. “Oh yeah? Then how come you were mumbling his name in your sleep last night?”

 

Aly blows a breath from her lips and shoves him playfully. “I was not.”

 

MacCready sits up on his knees. “You sure were. You were saying ‘oh Deacon, kiss me more’ and ‘Deacon, is that another pair of those stupid sunglasses in your pocket or are you just happy to see me’”.

 

Aly rolls her eyes and reaches for her pack, hauling it over her shoulder before crawling out of the tent, squinting at the sunlight suddenly barraging her eyes. MacCready exits the tent behind her and they both squint up at the sun before taking in the scene in front of them. It appears as though all of the settlers are awake and most of them have gathered around the fire that Aly had put together the previous night. The settlers have utilized the fire to create a cooking pit, where they are heating up cans of beans and soup for breakfast. The fire crackles away, the food gurgling inside of the old cooking pot sitting directly in the flames. Two of the younger settlers are feeding the Brahmin, and a group of four work to dismantle the tents that had been crudely crafted less than ten hours earlier.

 

Her eyes scan the campsite for her other companion, but she doesn’t see him. Aly turns to say something to MacCready, but she finds her companion staring almost forlornly at one of the settlers at the campfire. He looks like he’s concentrating hard, like he’s trying to remember something. The settler doesn’t seem to notice him watching her. She is stirring food in a cooking pot while laughing with another woman at the camp fire.

 

“Everything okay?”, she asks, reaching for her friend’s shoulder. As soon as her hand touches him, he snaps out of his transfixed gaze and looks at her. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. The girl cooking just reminded me of someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.”

 

“Oh yeah? Who?”

 

Mac rolled his shoulders to work out the tension in his muscles. “It’s a long story. Just a girl I knew a while ago.”

 

“A girl? As in a girlfriend or a friend that’s a girl? Or not a friend at all, an enemy?”

 

“My wife.”

 

It felt like the air had become molasses, and Aly’s throat was suddenly congealed shut, her lungs unable to get air. “ _What_?”, she manages out. The playful tone of her voice is replaced with a confused one as she is mentally knocked off of her feet by his response.

 

“She reminded me of my wife.” MacCready starts to walk away from the fire pit and it takes Aly’s brain a moment to process the situation before she trots after him. “Hey, wait. Mac, you have a wife? Where is she? Why haven’t you ever talked about her?”

 

“She’s dead.”

 

MacCready walks a little faster, clearly agitated by discussing this, but Aly doesn’t let up. “What happened to her?”

 

“It doesn’t matter”, he replies hotly, clearly bothered by the topic.

 

Aly grabs the back of his duster, and MacCready stops, but doesn’t turn to face her. “Mac, what happened to her? Why haven’t you told me about her before?”

 

MacCready takes a very long breath, inhaling for a long time, then audibly exhaling for even longer. MacCready isn’t the emotional type, and he doesn’t really discuss his feelings. Aly doesn’t either, which is part of the reason that they click so well. They fight _bad_ guys, make _bad_ jokes, and share _bad_ drinks. Talking about their feelings isn’t exactly something that happens. When he doesn’t answer, Aly prompts him with a simple question. “What was her name?”

 

“Lucy.”

 

Aly releases the back of his duster, but MacCready stays put. “Her name was Lucy. We lived together in the Capital Wasteland. We had a son, too. Duncan. Duncan is still there.”

 

Aly places her head on MacCready’s shoulder, the other hand flat on his back in a reassuring way. She closes her eyes listening to him talk. “When I was a kid I lived in a community called Little Lamplight. No adults were allowed in the community. The rule was that when you turned sixteen, you were booted out. And when I was booted out, I ended up finding her. We settled down in a house out in the middle of nowhere, away from all the Wasteland bullsh- _crap_. . .and before we knew it, she gave birth to our son, Duncan.”

 

Aly nods against his shoulder and rubs her friend’s back, signaling him that she’s listening.

 

“I didn’t want to tell you this because I didn’t want to sound needy but. . .one day when Duncan was out playing in the fields he got sick. Really sick. He got big blue boils all over his arms, legs, everywhere. He started getting weaker and weaker, stopped eating as much. When I left my family and came to the Commonwealth hoping to find a cure, he was barely able to walk. Honestly. .I don’t know how much longer he’s going to last. I haven’t found a cure yet, but I think I’m onto something. . .”

 

“But?” Aly questions, sensing the hesitation in his voice.

 

“I don’t think I can get the cure alone. You’ve done so much for me already, I hate to ask for more help. You already helped me deal with Winlock and Barnes, and that was more than I ever wanted to ask from you.”

 

“Mac, I can help you. That’s what friends do, they help each other.” Aly lifts her head from MacCready’s shoulder and opts to instead stand beside him. “You said you might be onto something. What’ve you got?”

 

“Well, a few months before we met I bumped into a guy named Sinclair who claimed his buddy caught some kind of a disease. I thought he was wasting my time until he said his partner broke out in blue boils. They dug up information about a cure at a place called Med-Tek Research. They even managed to grab the building’s lockdown security codes.

“Unfortunately, Sinclair’s buddy died before they were able to break into the facility. There’s no way that’s a coincidence, right? Med-Tek has to be the place.”

 

Aly nods. “It sounds like it.”

 

MacCready shifts his footing. “You’re sure you want to help me with this? I don’t want to ask something of you that you don’t want.”

 

Aly grabs her friend’s chin and turns his head to face her, her own eyes meeting his. “Mac. I’ll do whatever it takes to help your son. Got it?”

 

A small grin finds MacCready’s lips and he nods. He gently takes Aly’s arm and clicks her pip boy on. “I can mark Med-Tek on your map. We don’t have to go there right away, but as soon as you can, we can head out there.”

 

MacCready stares at the blip now marked on the green screen on the device. It blinks back at him like a beacon. Aly sees the intent in his eyes, and she grabs his hand and squeezes it. “We’ll get the cure.”

 

“Aly?”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Why don’t you ever talk about your life before the bombs fell?”

 

The air between them instantly becomes tense, almost hostile. MacCready immediately senses the change in mood, and he almost winces. “Because what happened before the bombs fell isn’t important”, Aly responds quickly and simply. She stomps off away from the merc, leaving him standing alone in the morning light. Her thoughts are racing and she bites her tongue to distract herself from the negative memories and emotions creeping up her throat, threatening to sneak into her head and overcome her thoughts.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Deacon leans against an aging, dilapidated fence post, his eyes tracking his favourite vault dweller around the camp. He watches as Aly and MacCready emerge from the tent, Aly’s face red with what might be a blush from. . . _embarrassment_? Deacon’s eyes track the pair intently as Aly and her boy toy walk away from camp, her practically trotting along behind MacCready, like an obedient dog. She says something to him and snags the back of his coat with her slender fingers, and Deacon feels his hand twitch at the action, ready to reach for his gun. He watches the boy’s expression go from angry to sincere, and his hand stops twitching.

 

He can see their mouths moving as they exchange words, though, from this distance, it’s impossible to read their lips. Whatever they’re discussing looks important; Aly is listening attentively, her hand rubbing the merc’s back. They talk for maybe ten minutes before Aly takes an offended step back, her expression changing suddenly. She stomps away from MacCready, anger present in her features, but Deacon can see the sadness in her eyes as she marches towards the camp, MacCready looking longingly at her as she leaves him standing by himself.

 

Deacon waltzes up along side Aly as she trods back into camp. “So, what’s the plan for today, Charmer?”

 

“We’re taking the settlers back to their settlement”, she answers matter-of-factly, “the plan is the same today as it was yesterday.”

 

Deacon gives a curt nod. “Gotcha. From the looks of it, the settlers have most of the camp packed up, so we’re almost ready to head out.

 

Aly doesn’t answer, just continues walking. The tent she and MacCready had slept in had since been packed up, and the tarp they had slept on was tucked away somewhere. She drops to her knees where the tent had been and pulls her pack off, plopping it in front of her and rustling through it, pulling out a heavily modified handgun. A bulky, scope had been mounted to the top of it, and a silencer was attached at the front.

 

Deacon cocks a brow at her inquisitively. “Why do you need a scope and silencer on a short range gun?”

 

She holds the gun up and looks down the scope, closing one eye. “For precise shots on close targets.”

 

“I figured that out, but why is that useful for now?”

 

Aly pops the magazine out of the gun and checks it before clicking it back in. “I’m assuming the Raiders that took these settlers hostage have probably turned the marina into their temporary home. We’re going to clear them out quickly and stealthily.”

 

Deacon’s grin practically stretches from ear to ear. “Stealth is my middle name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a n g s t


	12. The Static Speaks Thy Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aly, MacCready, and Deacon take back the Marina from the Raiders.
> 
> A n g s t ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to university full time and working a full time job is time consuming. Please forgive me for the hellishly long delay between the last chapter and this one.

A static-like, stagnant air surrounds the Egret Tours Marina as Aly, her companions, and the group of settlers approach it. Two rusted wastebaskets stand in the vacant parking lot before the marina, fires within them sending two plumes of dark smoke up into the stale air. Aly orders everyone to stop walking, then she pulls MacCready and Deacon aside.

 

"Ideas?", she prompts, giving both companions her full attention.

 

"There are three Raiders stationed outside the door to the building towards the east, but there's noise coming from the ship house in the center of the settlement. My guess is that the head honcho is probably holed up in the guarded building, and his goons have taken up residence in the larger building.", Mac declared, his eyes scanning the settlement in the distance.

 

"Astute observation, my friend", Deacon muses. Mac shoots him an irritated glare, to which Deacon just grins in response.

 

Aly felt her emotions prickle concernedly at the tension between her companions. Sure, all her companions didn't need to be best friends, but seeing her companions unable to get along was anxiety-inducing. The whole way here, the conversations between her and her friends had been kept short and to-the-point. Typically, this wouldn't bother her; Aly isn't the type of girl to talk for hours about her feelings. However, she needed to know that her companions would be able to keep each other, and herself, safe while in combat. This type of tension was the cause of a great deal of stress because Aly was unsure of if she could depend on her companions to save the other's life, if needed. And when getting ready to head into a high-risk situation like taking back the Marina from a group of rowdy, savage Raiders, she needed to know her companions could be depended upon. 

 

"What's going to be the best way in?" Aly queries. 

 

"Two options", Deacon begins, "option one: we take out the guards first and then head in and either take out or talk up the head of the group. This option has the benefit of possibly avoiding having to deal with all the other Raiders, however, the leader might order us to be taken out anyway because, you know, Raiders are assholes."

 

Aly and MacCready nod in agreement.

 

"Option two, we take out the Raiders in the barn first. That way when we get to the leader, he really has no other option than to surrender and give us the Marina. After all, all his henchmen will be out of the picture, and he'll have nobody left to defend him."

 

"I say we go into that ship house, guns blazing, and take out all the Raiders before they even have a chance to realize what's happening", MacCready declares, crossing his arms over his chest smugly. "It's not like the assh-  _losers. ._ don't deserve it anyway."

 

Aly's insides churn uncomfortably at her friend's statement. MacCready isn't the type of person to forgive and forget, however, he's usually willing to try and reason with people to avoid violent conflict. This kind of talk is a little uncharacteristic for him, and it only makes Aly's anxiety increase. 

 

"You make a good point. . . _but,_ what if we didn't have to fight the Raiders at all, because we went after their leader first?", Deacon remarks, turning his attention from Aly to MacCready. "What's the point of unnecessary bloodshed?"

 

"It's not " _unnecessary bloodshed"_ ", MacCready mocks. "They're Raiders. Raiders steal, rape, and murder for enjoyment. Killing them is practically a public service", Mac retorts, clenching his jaw in obvious irritation.

 

"Stop it", Aly intervenes, huffing and rubbing her temples. "We all know Raiders are shitty, and we all know that they can be difficult to reason with. But reasoning with them might be the better choice here. We have no idea how many of them are holed up in that ship house, and I don't want to risk getting caught up in a fight of three of us versus a hundred of them."

 

"If we go in there with a few grenades, they won't even know what hit them", the sharpshooter argues, raising his voice.

 

"If we can talk them into leaving, we wouldn't need to waste the grenades or ammo", Deacon comments.

 

"And if they leave, then what? They go out and terrorize other settlements? No, that's fu- _freaking_ stupid. It's easier to take them all out now while they're in one place."

 

Deacon and Aly exchange worried expressions. Aly clears her throat, "reasoning with them is a more reasonable option right now. We don't know how many Raiders there are in there. There's only three of us, and I'm not going to make these settlers fight against Raiders in the hopes of bettering our chances. We'll go with Deacon's first plan and take out the three Raiders guarding the door, then we'll sneak in and try to reason with the leader."

 

MacCready rubs his neck for a moment before throwing up both hands. "Fine, we can do it sunglasses guy's way, whatever."

 

"Sunglasses guy? It's such a fitting pet name, I'm truly humbled and honoured", Deacon teases. 

 

"Shut up", Mac bites back, whirling his attention around to Deacon again, taking an angry step toward the taller man. Deacon's grin twitches at the edge of his mouth, but he holds his ground against the merc. "Chill, compadre. Just trying to lessen the stress with a bit of humour", Deacon responds, holding up both hands in mock defense.

 

MacCready furrows his brows more and takes another step towards Deacon, staring up into his face. "You're  _not_ funny", Mac practically seethes. 

 

"Alright, okay", Deacon uses one hand to push the other man away from him, "just calm down."

 

MacCready smacks Deacon's hand away and shoves him in the chest with both hands. Deacon stumbles backward, but steadies himself, his grin gone entirely, replaced with an expression that could only be described as impossible to read. "Don't tell me to calm down!", MacCready shouts. Some of the settlers look over at Aly and her companions with concerned glances, no doubt perturbed by the raised voices. Aly steps between the men and uses her forearm to hold MacCready away from Deacon. "Stop", she orders. MacCready presses his weight into Aly, trying to force her out of the way, but not using enough force to hurt her. "This bickering is completely unnecessary", Aly asserts, directing her words more at MacCready than at Deacon. Mac tries to take another step forward but Aly continues to hold him back. "Mac, stop", Aly demands, "you're acting out of line."

 

MacCready scoffs, then gives a fake, breathy laugh. "Me? Out of line? You think  _I'm_ the one being out of line? Your pretty little boy toy over there has only been a part of this group for a few weeks and now he's acting like he's  _so_ much better than the rest of us."

 

Aly drops her arm and turns to face the merc. "Mac, that's not true. Deacon saved my life and-"

 

" _Why_ did he save your life, Aly? Do you really think this skeevy assh- _jerk_ , rescued you out of the goodness of his heart? You can't possibly be naive enough to believe that he rescued you for any reason other than personal gain. He's with the Railroad, that makes you an asset to him. You mean  _nothing_ to him."

 

"MacCready, stop", Aly demands again, this time with more venom in her tone. "Deacon is just as much a part of this group as you and I are-"

 

"Stop defending him!", MacCready shouts.

 

Aly is silent for a moment, her expression grim. Her lip twitches at the corner and her eyes are practically burning with annoyance. "Do  _not_ shout at me", she states calmly.

 

Deacon whistles to get both their attention, and Mac and Aly both look up at him. "As much as I'd love to let you two fight this one out, the settlers are getting a little restless, and we should probably go forward with the plan before the sun goes down."

 

Mac lets out a low breath and Aly whirls on her heel and begins to walk towards the main building of the settlement, pulling her pistol from her holster. Deacon pulls out a stealth pack a flips the switch, shimmering out of sight, his silent footsteps leaving no indication that he was even following Aly at all. Mac began to trail behind Aly, but her walking stopped abruptly. "Mac, stay here and watch the settlers", she orders without turning to look at him," I don't trust you to watch Deacon's back. Unless I can trust you to keep _all_ your friends safe, you're staying here with these people."

 

And then she continued strolling determinedly towards the building, leaving Mac with a metaphorical knife in his chest. He wanted to retort, wanted to tell her that he would keep them both safe, that he would do anything for his friends. He would risk his life for Aly without a second thought, no doubt about that. But deep down he really didn't know whether or not he would be willing to put his own life in danger to keep Deacon's life safe. He stood unmoving, watching as Aly raised her pistol, a silenced gunshot hitting one guard in the side of the face, sending her to the ground immediately. Before the other guard had a chance to react, a knife emerged from thin air and slit his throat, blood pouring from the man's neck as he dropped to his knees then fell limp to the sidewalk. Aly nodded to the invisible Deacon as he hid his knife again, then the both of them headed into the building, out of MacCready's view. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Aly presses her back to the boarded up windows at the entrance of the building, gun at the ready. She wiggles her fingers against the handle of her pistol, sweat making her grip on her gun uncomfortable. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, forcing the previous moment's events from her mind. Mac was upset, she was aware of this, but she had to wait to deal with that. Right now, what mattered most was resecuring this settlement for the settlers who rightfully owned it. She reopens her eyes, releasing the breath she had been holding in, and whirls around the corner, quickly planting three bullets in the heads of the three Raiders that were in the room. 

 

She gives the room a quick once over to ensure that there are no Raiders hiding before heading up the stairs. The quiet creak of the stairs behind her lets her know that Deacon is right behind her, watching her back. Even though she can't see him, she senses his eyes on her, and her skin prickles at the feeling.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

MacCready is helping a settler bandage her blistered fingers when he hears three gunshots, followed by silence, then one more gunshot. The whole group of usually bustling settlers is nearly silent, everyone's attention turned toward the marina. After what seems like an eternity, The door of the main building is kicked open, and a Raider emerges with his hands bound behind his back. Judging from his bizarre leather getup, Mac assumes he must be the leader. He has a gun pressed to the back of his head as Aly follows closely behind, barking orders at him. She walks the Raider across the street where she directs him to enter the large ship house. He does as she tells him, and they both disappear into the aged building. 

 

Several minutes pass before dozens of Raiders begin pouring out of the ship house. All of them walk away from the buildings, weaving around shacks that the settlers had built, and disappearing up over the hill and into the woods. Aly emerges from the building last with the Raider leader still in front of her, gun still against his head. She whispers something toward him and then shoves him, lowering her gun. The Raider stumbles, looking back at Aly as he sprints off into the woods like all the other Raiders had. 

 

Once the last Raider is out of sight, a wide smile forms on Aly's lips and she practically jumps in joy. She leaps into the arms of an invisible man, being whirled around happily. She wraps her legs around him, and is carried into the ship house. Her eyes shut tight as her whole face is overcome with happiness and relief. 

 

Of course, only Mac notices the last part because the second that the last Raider is gone, all of the settlers began whooping and cheering and running down into the marina to reclaim their home. Mac is jostled around as various settlers bump him and push him as they book it towards the settlement. Even with all the commotion around him, his eyes remained locked on Aly's smiling face is she is twirled around by the invisible man. His ears hear only white noise despite the booming voices around him. Mac stares blankly at the door that Aly had been carried into for a long time before he shrugs off the wave of emotion and heads down the hill into the settlement. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The door to the ship house slams shut with a creaky wail as Aly practically screams in excitement. "Deac, we did it! We got them to leave!", she exclaims excitedly. Her friend's arms hold her tightly as her legs grip his waist. "That was all you, Charmer", Deacon replies, " _You_ saved this settlement." 

 

Aly squeals excitedly and buries her face in her invisible friend's neck. Deacon spins her around once more, holding her tightly. Aly raises her head as her friend begins to shimmer back into focus, the stealth boy wearing off. His glasses are crooked on his face and his usually perfect black hair is messy with strands sticking out here and there. There is dark blood splattered across his face and sunglasses, though Aly safely assumes that this isn't his blood, but almost definitely one of the Raiders. Aly reaches up to rub the blood away, but instead runs a hand over his hair and to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss without a second thought. Deacon's breath hitches and he tightens his grip on the vault dweller, moving his hands from her waist down over her backside. Aly brings her other hand to his face, pulling him even further into the kiss. Deacon breaks the kiss, " _Charmer_ ", he breathes, but before he can get his statement out, Aly has her lips on his again, her nails dragging over his neck, making her desire more known. 

 

Not daring to break the kiss again, Deacon backs Aly up to a work bench, removing one hand from Aly's back to shove the tools off of the table. The tools clatter loudly to the floor as he drops Aly onto the surface. She claws at his back, pulling him closer to her, Deacon using his thigh to push her knees apart, pressing his body up against hers. Aly groans as Deacon removes his lips from hers and drops his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting at the skin. He runs his hands up her thighs, gripping at her hips before running his hands back down. " _Deac_ ", she mumbles. " _Charmer"_ , he says again, but this time with a quiet laugh. He sucks at her neck, and she groans, arching her body up against his. 

 

The door to the marina slams open, startling the both of them, Aly quickly backing up, her back colliding roughly with the wall-mounted tools. The walls of the building rattle from the door opening so suddenly and pain shoots up her spine as a wrench digs into her skin and she bites her tongue. Deacon doesn't back up, but looks over his shoulder to identify the person responsible for the intrusion.

 

MacCready is standing in front of the door, his eyes quickly dart from Deacon's face, to Aly's face, to the situation they're in. Aly has backed up, but Deacon's hands still rest on her thighs, and Aly's face is red from excitement and she appears flustered. MacCready clenches his jaw, but his face is hard to read. Irritation, maybe? Or perhaps envy? 

 

"Let's get going", Mac says firmly, turning around and exiting the building, slamming the door behind him, causing the whole structure to rattle again. His boots can be heard stomping away. Aly and Deacon exchange a look before Aly reaches up and adjusts his crooked glasses. Deacon smiles at the gesture, then backs up from the work bench, offering her a hand. She takes his hand and hops down off the bench, her boots hitting the floor hard and sending a small cloud of dust up into the air at her feet. Deacon keeps hold of her hand as he leads her to the door, opening it and allowing them both to exit the building into the afternoon sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Mac came across as bitchy in this chapter. I felt like his annoyance and anger was appropriate. ALSO there's more character development to come.


End file.
